F 


k. 


ESSAYS  ON 
SCANDINAVIAN  LITEEATUEE 


BY  THE    SAME   AUTHOR. 

Goethe  and  Schiller.      Their  Lives  and  Works;   with  a 

commentary  on   "  Faust." 
Essays  on   German  Literature. 
Essays  on  Scandinavian  Literature. 
A  Commentary  on  the  Writings  of  Henrik  Ibsen. 
Literary  and  Social   Silhouettes. 
The  Story  of  Norway. 
Gunnar. 

Tales  from  Two  Hemispheres. 
A  Norseman's  Pilgrimage. 
Falconberg.     A   Novel. 
Queen  Titania. 

Ilka  on  the   Hill-top,  and  Other  Tales. 
A  Daughter  of  the   Philistines. 
The  Light  of  Her  Countenance. 
Vagabond  Tales. 

The  Mammon  of  Unrighteousness. 
The  Golden  Calf. 
Social   Strugglers. 
Idyls  of  Norway,  and  Other  Poems. 

The  Norseland  Series  (Juvenile). 

The   Modern  Vikings:    Stories  of  Life  and   Sport  in  the 

Northland. 
Against  Heavy  Odds,  and  A  Fearless  Trio, 
Boyhood  in   Norway. 
Noneland  Tales, 


ESSAYS  ON 
SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 


BY 

HJALMAB  HJORTH  BOYESEN 

PROFESSOB  OF  GEKMANIC  LANGUAGES  AND  LITERATURES  IN 
COLUMBIA  COLLEGE 


LONDON 
DAVID  NUTT,    270,   STRAND 

1895. 


Copyright,  1895,    by   Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
for  the  United   States  ot  America 

Printed  by  the  Trow   Directory,    Printing  and   Bookbinding  Company 
New  York,   U    S.  A. 


PREFACE 


Some  twenty  years  ago  the  ambition  seized  me 
to  write  a  History  of  Scandinavian  Literature.  I 
scarcely  realized  tlien  what  an  enormous  amount 
of  reading  would  be  required  to  equip  me  for  this 
task.  My  studies  naturally  led  me  much  beyond 
the  scoj)e  of  my  original  intention.  There  was  a 
fascination  in  the  work  which  lured  me  perpetually 
on,  and  made  me  explore  with  a  constantly  increas- 
ing zest  the  great  literary  personalities  of  Xorway, 
Sweden,  and  Denmark.  Thus  my  chapter  on  Hen- 
rik  Ibsen  grew  into  a  book  of  three  hundred  and 
seventeen  pages,  which  was  published  a  year  ago, 
and  must  be  regarded  as  supplementary  to  the 
present  volume.  The  chapter  on  Bjornstjerne 
Bjornson  was  in  danger  of  exjianding  to  similar 
proportions,  and  only  the  most  heroic  condensation 
saved  it  from  challenging  criticism  as  an  inde- 
pendent work.  As  regards  Norway  and  Denmark, 
I  have  endeavored  to  select  all  the  weightiest  and 
most  representative  names.  The  Swedish  authors 
Johau  Ludvig  Euneberg,  Mrs.  Edgren,  and  Au- 
gust Strindberg,  and  the  Dane  Oehlenschlaeger, 
necessity  has  compelled  me  to  reserve  for  a  future 
volume. 

CoLTTiiBiA  College,  New  York, 
February,  189ij. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 
BjORNSTJEBNE   BjORNSON, 3 

Alexander  Kielland, 107 

Jonas  Lie, 121 

Hans  Christian  Andersen, 155 

Contemporary  Danish  Literature,        .        .        .  181 

Georg  Brandes, 199 

ESAIAS  Tegner 219 


I 


BJORNSTJERNE  BJORNSON 


BJORNSTJERNE    BJORNSON 


BJOENSTJEENE  BJORNSON  is  tlie  first 
Norwegian  poet  avIio  can  in  any  sense  be 
called  national.  The  national  genius,  with  its  lim- 
itations as  well  as  its  virtues,  has  found  its  living 
embodiment  in  him.  Whenever  he  opens  his  mouth 
it  is  as  if  the  nation  itself  were  speaking.  If  he 
writes  a  little  song,  hardly  a  year  elapses  before  its 
phrases  have  passed  into  the  common  speech  of  the 
people  ;  composers  compete  for  the  honor  of  inter- 
preting it  in  simple,  Norse  -  sounding  melodies, 
which  gradually  work  their  way  from  the  draw- 
ing-room to  the  kitchen,  the  street,  and  thence 
out  over  the  wide  fields  and  highlands  of  Norway. 
His  tales,  romances,  and  dramas  express  collec- 
tively the  supreme  result  of  the  nation's  experi- 
ence, so  that  no  one  to-day  can  view  Norwegian  life 
or  Norwegian  history  except  through  their  medium. 
The  bitterest  opponent  of  the  poet  (for  like  every 
strong  personality  he  has  many  enemies)  is  thus 
no  less  his  debtor  than  his  warmest  admirer.  His 
speech  has  stamped  itself  upon  the  very  language 
and  given  it  a  new  ring,  a  deeper  resonance.     His 


4       SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

thonght  fills  the  air,  and  has  become  the  uncon- 
scious property  of  all  who  have  grown  to  manhood 
and  womanhood  since  the  day  when  his  titanic 
form  first  loomed  u]3  on  the  horizon  of  the  North. 
It  is  not  only  as  their  first  and  greatest  poet  that 
the  Norsemen  love  and  hate  him,  but  also  as  a 
civilizer  in  the  widest  sense.  But  like  Kadmus, 
in  Greek  myth,  he  has  not  only  brought  with  him 
letters,  but  also  the  dragon-teeth  of  strife,  which 
it  is  to  be  hoped  will  not  sprout  forth  in  armed 
men. 

A  man's  ancestry  and  environment,  no  doubt, 
account  in  a  superficial  manner  for  his  appearance 
and  mental  characteristics.  Having  the  man,  we 
are  able  to  trace  the  germs  of  his  being  in  the  past 
of  his  race  and  his  country ;  but,  with  all  our 
science  we  have  not  yet  acquired  the  ingenuity  to 
predict  the  man — to  deduce  him  a  'priori  from  the 
tangle  of  determining  causes  which  enveloped  his 
birth.  It  seems  beautifully  appropriate  in  the 
Elder  Edda  that  the  god-descended  hero  Helge 
the  Volsung  should  be  born  amid  gloom  and  ter- 
ror in  a  storm  which  shakes  the  house,  while  the 
Norns  —  the  goddesses  of  fate  —  proclaim  in  the 
tempest  his  tempestuous  career.  Equally  satisfac- 
tory it  appears  to  have  the  modern  champion  of 
Norway — the  typical  modern  Norseman — born  on 
the  bleak  and  wild  Dovre  Mountain,*  where  there 
is  winter  eight  months  of  the  year  and  cold 
weather  during  the  remaining  four.    The  parish  of 

*  December  8, 1833. 


BJORNSTJERNE  BJORNSOM  5 

Kvikne,  in  Oesterdalen,  where  his  father,  the  Eev- 
erend  Peder  Bjornson,  held  a  living,  had  a  bad 
reputation  on  account  of  the  unruly  ferocity  and 
brutal  violence  of  the  inhabitants.  One  of  the  Eev- 
erend  Peder  Bjornson's  recent  predecessors  never 
went  into  his  pulpit,  unarmed ;  and  another  fled 
for  his  life.  The  peasants  were  not  slow  in  inti- 
mating to  the  new  pastor  that  they  meant  to  have 
him  mind  his  own  business  and  conform  to  the 
manners  and  customs  of  the  parish  ;  but  there  they 
reckoned  without  their  host.  The  reverend  gentle- 
man made  short  work  of  the  opposition.  He  en- 
forced the  new  law  of  compulsory  education  with- 
out heeding  its  unpopularity  ;  and  when  the  cham- 
pion fighter  of  the  valley  came  as  the  peasants' 
spokesman  to  take  him  to  task  in  summary  fash- 
ion, he  found  himself,  before  he  was  aware  of  it, 
at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs,  where  he  picked  him- 
self up  wonderingly  and  promj)tly  took  to  his 
heels. 

During  the  winter  the  snow  reached  up  to  the 
second-story  windows  of  the  parsonage  ;  and  the 
servants  had  to  tunnel  their  way  to  the  storehouse 
and  the  stables.  The  cold  was  so  intense  that  the 
little  BJornstjerne  thought  twice  before  touching  a 
door  knob,  as  his  fingers  were  liable  to  stick  to  the 
metal.  When  he  was  six  years  old,  however,  his  fa- 
ther was  transferred  to  Romsdal,  which  is,  indeed, 
a  wild  and  grandly  picturesque  region  ;  but  far 
less  desolate  than  Dovre.  "  It  lies,"  says  Bjorn- 
son,   *^ broad -bosomed    between    two    confluent 


6       SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

fjords,  with  a  green  mountain  above,  cataracts  and 
homesteads  on  the  opposite  shore,  waving  meadows 
and  activity  in  the  bottom  of  the  valley  ;  and  all 
the  way  out  toward  the  ocean,  mountains  with 
headland  upon  headland  running  out  into  the 
fjord  and  a  large  farm  upon  each." 

The  feeling  of  terror,  the  crushing  sense  of  guilt 
which  Bjornson  has  so  strikingly  portrayed  in  the 
first  chapters  of  ''  In  God's  Way,"  were  familiar 
to  his  own  childhood.  In  every  life,  as  in  every 
race,  the  God  of  fear  precedes  the  God  of  love. 
And  in  Northern  Norway,  where  nature  seems  so 
tremendous  and  man  so  insignificant,  no  boy  es--. 
capes  these  phantoms  of  dread  which  clutch  him 
with  icy  fingers.  But  as  a  counterbalancing  force 
in  the  young  Bjornson,  we  have  his  confidence  in 
the  strength  and  good  sense  of  his  gigantic  father, 
who  could  thrash  the  strongest  champion  in  the 
parish.  He  used  to  stand  in  the  evening  on  the 
beach  ''and  gaze  at  the  j)lay  of  the  sunshine  uj)on 
fjord  and  mountain,  until  he  wept,  as  if  he  had 
done  something  wrong.  Now  he  would  suddenly 
stop  in  this  or  that  valley,  while  running  on 
skees,  and  stand  spell-bound  by  its  beauty  and  a 
longing  which  he  could  not  comprehend,  but 
which  was  so  great  that  in  the  midst  of  the  high- 
est joy  he  was  keenly  conscious  of  a  sense  of  con- 
finement and  sorrow."  *  "  We  catch  a  glimpse  in 
these  childish  memories,"  says  Mr.  Nordahl  Eolf- 
sen,  "of  the  remarkable  character,  we  are  about  to 

*  Nordahl  Rolfsen  :  Norske  Digtere,  pp.  450,  451. 


BJORNSTJERyE   BJORiVSO.V  7 

dej)ict :  Being  the  son  of  a  giant,  he  is  ever  ready 
to  strike  out  with  a  heavy  hand,  when  he  thinks 
that  anyone  is  encroaching  upon  what  he  deems 
the  right.  But  this  same  pugnacious  man,  whom 
it  is  so  hard  to  overcome,  can  be  overwhelmed  by 
an  emotion  and  surrender  himself  to  it  with  his 
whole  being." 

At  the  age  of  twelve  BJornson  was  sent  to  the 
Latin  school  at  Molde,  where,  however,  his  prog- 
ress was  not  encouraging.  He  was  one  of  those 
thoroughly  healthy  and  headstrong  boys  who  are 
the  despair  of  ambitious  mothers,  and  whom 
fathers  (when  the  futility  of  educational  chas- 
tisement has  been  finally  proved)  are  apt  to  re- 
gard with  a  resigned  and  half -humorous  regret. 
His  dislike  of  books  was  instinctive,  hearty,  and 
uncompromising.  His  strong,  half-savage  boy- 
nature  could  brook  no  restraints,  and  looked  long- 
ingly homeward  to  the  wide  mountain  plains,  the 
foaming  rivers  where  the  trout  leaped  in  the  sum- 
mer night,  and  the  calm  fjord  where  you  might 
drift  blissfully  along,  as  it  were,  suspended  in  the 
midst  of  the  vast,  blue,  ethereal  space.  And  when 
the  summer  vacation  came,  with  its  glorious  free- 
dom and  irresponsibility,  he  would  roam  at  his 
own  sweet  will  through  forest  and  field,  until 
hunger  and  fatigue  forced  him  to  return  to  his 
father's  parsonage. 

After  several  years  of  steadily  unsuccessful  study, 
Bjornson  at  last  passed  the  so-called  examen  ar- 
thim,  which  admitted  him  to  the  University  of 


8  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LIT  ERA  TURE 

Christiania.  He  was  now  a  youth  of  large,  almost 
athletic  frame,  with  a  handsome,  striking  face,  and 
a  pair  of  blue  eyes  which  no  one  is  apt  to  forget 
who  has  ever  looked  into  them.  There  was  a  cer- 
tain grand  simplicity  and  naivete  in  his  manner, 
and  an  exuberance  of  animal  spirits  which  must 
have  made  him  an  object  of  curious  interest  among 
his  town-bred  fellow-students.  But  his  University 
career  was  of  brief  duration.  All  the  dimly  fer- 
menting powers  of  his  rich  nature  were  now  begin- 
ning to  clarify,  the  consciousness  of  his  calling  be- 
gan to  assert  itself,  and  the  demand  for  expression 
became  imperative.  His  literary  debut  was  an  his- 
toric drama  entitled  "  Yalborg,^'  which  was  ac- 
cepted for  representation  by  the  directors  of  tlie 
Christiania  Theatre,  and  procured  for  its  author  a 
free  ticket  to  all  theatrical  performances  ;  it  was, 
however,  never  brought  on  the  stage,  as  Bjornson, 
having  had  his  eyes  opened  to  its  defects,  withdrew 
it  of  his  own  accord. 

At  this  time  the  Norwegian  stage  was  almost  en- 
tirely in  the  hands  of  the  Danes,  and  all  the  more 
prominent  actors  were  of  Danish  birth.  Theatri- 
cal managers  drew  freely  on  tlie  dramatic  treasures 
of  Danish  literature,  and  occasionally,  to  replenish 
the  exchequer,  reproduced  a  French  comedy  or 
farce,  whose  epigrammatic  pith  and  vigor  Avere 
more  than  half-sj^oiled  in  the  translation.  The 
drama  was  as  yet  an  exotic  in  Norway  ;  it  had  no 
root  in  the  national  soil,  and  could  accordingly  in 
no  respect  represent  the  nation's  own   struggles 


BJORNSTJERNE  BJOKNSON  9 

and  aspirations.  The  critics  themselves,  no  doubt, 
looked  upon  it  merely  as  a  form  of  amusement,  a 
thing  to  be  wondered  and  stared  at,  and  to  be  dis- 
missed from  the  mind  as  soon  as  the  curtain 
dropped.  Bjornson,  whose  j^atriotic  soul  could 
not  endure  the  thought  of  this  abject  foreign  de- 
pendence, ascribed  all  the  existing  abuses  to  the 
predominance  of  the  Danish  element,  and  in  a 
series  of  vehement  articles  attacked  the  Danish 
actors,  managers,  and  all  who  were  in  any  way  re- 
sponsible for  the  unworthy  condition  of  the  na- 
tional stage.  In  return  he  reaped,  as  might  have 
been  expected,  an  abundant  harvest  of  abuse,  but 
the  discussion  he  had  provoked  furnished  food  for 
reflection,  and  the  rapid  development  of  the  Nor- 
wegian drama  during  the  next  decade  is,  no  doubt, 
largely  traceable  to  his  influence. 

The  liberty  for  which  he  had  yearned  so  long, 
Bjornson  found  at  the  International  Students'  Ee- 
union  of  1856.  Then  the  students  of  the  Nor- 
wegian and  Danish  Universities  met  in  Upsala, 
where  they  were  received  with  grand  festivities  by 
their  Swedish  brethren.  Here  the  poet  caught 
the  first  glimpse  of  a  greater  and  freer  life  than 
moved  within  the  narrow  horizon  of  the  Norwegian 
capital.  This  gay  and  careless  student-life,  this 
cheerful  abandonment  of  all  the  artificial  shackles 
which  burden  one's  feet  in  their  daily  walk  through 
a  bureaucratic  society,  the  temporary  freedom 
which  allows  one  without  offence  to  toast  a  prince 
and  hug  a  count  to  one's  bosom — all  this  had  its 


I O      SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

influence  upon  Bjornson's  sensitive  nature ;  it 
filled  his  soul  with  a  happy  intoxication  and  with 
confidence  in  his  own  strength.  And  having  once 
tasted  a  life  like  this  he  could  no  more  return  to 
what  he  had  left  behind  him. 

The  next  winter  we  find  him  in  Copenhagen, 
laboring  with  an  intensity  of  creative  ardor  which 
he  had  never  known  before.  His  striking  appear- 
ance, the  pithy  terseness  of  his  speech,  and  a  cer- 
tain naive  self-assertion  and  impatience  of  social 
restraints  made  him  a  notable  figure  in  the  polite 
and  somewhat  effeminate  society  of  the  Danish 
capital.  There  was  a  general  expectation  at  that 
time  that  a  great  poet  was  to  come,  and  although 
Bjornson  had  as  yet  published  nothing  to  justify 
the  expectation,  he  found  the  public  of  Copenhagen 
ready  to  recognize  in  him  the  man  who  was  to 
rouse  the  North  from  its  long  intellectual  torpor, 
and  usher  in  a  new  era  in  its  literature.  It  is 
needless  to  say  that  he  did  not  discourage  this  be- 
lief, for  he  himself  fervently  believed  that  he 
would  before  long  justify  it.  The  first  proof  of  his 
strength  he  gave  in  the  tale  "  Synnove  Solbak- 
ken'^  (Synnove  Sunny-Hill),  which  he  published  in 
an  illustrated  weekly,  and  afterward  in  book-form. 
It  is  a  very  unpretending  little  story,  idyllic  in 
tone,  but  realistic  in  its  coloring,  and  redolent  of 
the  pine  and  spruce  and  birch  of  the  Norwegian 
highlands. 

It  had  been  the  fashion  in  Norway  since  the 
nation  regained  its  independence  to  interest  one's 


bjornstjernb:  bjoknson  ii 

self  in  a  lofty,  condescending  way  in  the  life  of  the 
peasantry.  A  few  well-meaning  persons,  like  the 
poet  Wergeland,  had  labored  zealously  for  their 
enlightenment  and  the  improvement  of  their  eco- 
nomic condition ;  but,  excej)t  in  the  case  of  such 
single  individuals,  no  real  and  vital  sympathy  and 
fellow-feeling  had  ever  existed  between  the  upper 
and  the  lower  strata  of  Norwegian  society.  And 
as  long  as  the  fellow-feeling  is  wanting,  this  zeal 
for  enlightenment,  however  laudable  its  motive,  is 
not  apt  to  produce  lasting  results.  The  peasants 
view  with  distrust  and  suspicion  whatever  comes 
to  them  from  their  social  superiors,  and  the  so- 
called  "  useful  books,'^  which  were  scattered 
broadcast  over  the  land,  were  of  a  tediously  didac- 
tic character,  and,  moreover,  hardly  adajDted  to 
the  comprehension  of  those  to  whom  they  were 
ostensibly  addressed.  Wergeland  himself,  with  all 
his  self-sacrificing  ardor,  had  but  a  vague  concep- 
tion of  the  real  needs  of  the  ]3eople,  and,  as  far  as 
results  were  concerned,  wasted  much  of  his  valu- 
ble  life  in  his  efforts  to  improve,  edify  and  in- 
struct them.  It  hardly  occurred  to  him  that  the 
culture  of  which  he  and  his  colleagues  were  the 
representatives  was  itself  a  foreign  importation, 
and  could  not  by  any  violent  process  be  ingrafted 
upon  the  national  trunk,  which  drew  its  strength 
from  centuries  of  national  life,  history,  and  tradi- 
tion. That  this  peasantry,  whom  the  honrgeoisie 
and  the  aristocracy  of  culture  had  been  wont  to 
regard  with  half-pitying  condescension,  were  the 


12  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N'  L  IT  ERA  TURE 

real  representatives  of  tlie  Norse  nation  ;  that  they 
had  preserved  through  long  years  of  tyranny  and 
foreigii  oppression  the  historic  characteristics  of 
their  Norse  forefathers,  Avhile  the  njDper  classes 
had  gone  in  search  of  strange  gods,  and  bowed 
their  necks  to  the  foreign  yoke  ;  that  in  their 
veins  the  old  strong  saga-life  was  still  throbbing 
with  vigorous  pulse -beats  —  this  was  the  lesson 
which  Bjornson  undertook  to  teach  his  country- 
men, and  a  very  fruitful  lesson  it  has  proved  to 
be.  It  has  inspired  the  people  with  renewed 
courage,  it  has  turned  the  national  life  into  fresh 
channels,  and  it  has  revolutionized  national  politics. 

To  be  sure  all  this  was  not  the  result  of  the 
idyllic  little  tale  which  marked  the  beginning  of 
his  career.  But  this  little  tale,  although  no  trace 
of  what  the  Germans  call  "  tendency "  is  to  be 
found  in  it,  is  still  significant  as  being  the  poet's 
first  indirect  manifesto,  and  as  such  distinctly 
foreshadowing  the  path  which  he  has  since  fol- 
lowed. 

First,  in  its  purely  literary  aspect,  "  Synnove 
Solbakken  "  was  strikingly  novel.  Tlie  author  did 
not,  as  his  predecessors  had  done,  view  the  people 
from  the  exalted  pedestal  of  superior  culture  ;  not 
as  a  subject  for  benevolent  preaching  and  charita- 
ble condescension,  but  as  a  concrete  phenomenon, 
whose  raison  d'etre  was  as  absolute  and  indis- 
putable as  that  of  the  bourgeoisie  or  the  bureau- 
cracy itself.  He  depicted  their  soul-struggles  and 
the  incidents  of  their  daily  life  with  a  loving  mi- 


BJORNSTJERNE  B JOHNSON  1 3 

nuteness  and  a  vivid  realism  hitherto  unequalled 
in  the  literature  of  the  North.  He  did  not,  like 
Auerbach,  construct  his  peasant  figures  through 
laborious  reflection,  nor  did  he  attemjjt  by  anxious 
psj'chological  analysis  to  initiate  the  reader  into 
their  processes  of  thought  and  emotion.  He  sim- 
ply depicted  them  as  he  saw  and  knew  them.  Their 
feelings  and  actions  have  their  immediate,  self- 
evident  motives  in  the  characters  themselves,  and 
the  absence  of  analysis  on  the  author's  part  gives 
an  increased  energy  and  movement  to  the  story. 

Mr.  Nordahl  Rolfsen  relates,  a  propos  of  the  re- 
ception which  was  accorded  Bjornson's  first  book, 
the  following  amusing  anecdote  : 

'^  *  Synnove  Solbakken '  was  printed,  and  its 
author  was  anxious  to  have  his  friends  read  it. 
But  not  one  of  them  could  be  prevailed  upon.  At 
last  a  comrade  was  found  who  was  persuaded  to 
attack  it  on  the  promise  of  a  bottle  of  punch.  He 
entered  Bjornson's  den,  got  a  long  pipe  which  he 
filled  with  tobacco,  undressed  himself  completely — 
for  it  was  a  hot  day — flung  himself  on  the  bed,  and 
began  to  read.  Bjornson  sat  in  the  sofa,  breath- 
less with  expectation.  Leaf  after  leaf  was  turned  ; 
not  a  smile,  not  a  single  encouraging  word  !  The 
young  poet  had  good  reason  to  regard  the  battle  as 
lost.  At  last  the  pipe,  the  bottle,  and  the  book 
were  finished.  Then  the  merciless  Stoic  rose  and 
began  to  dress,  and  the  following  little  exclamation 
escaped  him  :  '  That  is,  the  devil  take  me,  the 
best  book  I  have  read  in  all  my  life.' " 


14  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

Bjornson's  style  was  no  less  novel  than  his 
theme.  It  may  or  it  may  not  have  been  conscious- 
ly modelled  after  the  saga  style,  to  which,  however, 
it  bears  an  obvious  resemblance.  In  his  early 
childhood,  while  he  lived  among  the  peasants,  he 
became  familiar  Avith  their  mode  of  thought  and 
speech,  and  it  entered  into  his  being,  and  became 
his  own  natural  mode  of  expression.  There  is  in 
his  daily  conversation  a  certain  grim  directness, 
and  a  laconic  weightiness,  which  give  an  air  of  im- 
portance and  authority  even  to  his  simplest  utter- 
ances. This  tendency  to  compression  frequently 
has  the  effect  of  obscurity,  not  because  his  thought 
is  obscure,  but  rather  because  energetic  brevity  of 
expression  has  fallen  into  disuse,  and  even  a  Norse 
public,  long  accustomed  to  the  wordy  difluseness 
of  latter  -  day  bards,  have  in  part  lost  the  faculty 
to  comprehend  the  genius  of  their  own  language. 
As  a  Danish  critic  wittily  observed  :  ''  Bjornson's 
language  is  but  one  stej)  removed  from  panto- 
mime." 

In  1858  Bjornson  assumed  the  directorship  of 
the  theatre  in  Bergen,  and  there  published  his  sec- 
ond tale,  "  Arne,"  in  which  the  same  admirable 
self-restraint,  the  same  implicit  confidence  in  the 
intelligence  of  his  reader,  the  same  firm-handed 
decision  and  vigor  in  the  character-drawing,  in 
fact,  all  the  qualities  Avhich  delighted  the  public 
in  ''Synnove  Solbakken,"  were  found  in  an  in- 
tensified degree. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Bjornson  had  also  made  his 


BJORNSTJERNE   BJORNSON  1 5 

debut  as  a  dramatist.  In  the  year  1858  he  had 
published  two  dramas,  "  Mellem  Slagene"  (Be- 
tween the  Battles)  and  "  Halte-Hnlda  "  (Limping 
Hulda)  both  of  which  deal  with  national  subjects, 
taken  from  the  old  sagas.  As  in  his  tales  he  had 
endeavored  to  concentrate  into  a  few  strongly  de- 
fined types  the  modern  folk-life  of  the  North,  so 
in  his  dramas  the  same  innate  love  of  his  national- 
ity leads  him  to  seek  the  ty^jical  features  of  his 
people,  as  they  are  revealed  in  the  historic  chief- 
tains of  the  past. 

**  Between  the  Battles"  is  a  dramatic  episode 
rather  than  a  drama.  During  the  civil  war  between 
King  Sverre  and  King  Magnus  in  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury, the  former  visits  in  disguise  a  hut  upon  the 
mountains  where  a  young  warrior,  Halvard  Gjaela 
and  Inga,  his  beloved,  are  living  together.  The 
long  internecine  strife  has  raised  the  hand  of  father 
against  son,  and  of  brother  against  brother.  Hal- 
vard sympathizes  with  Sverre  ;  Inga,  who  hates 
the  king  because  he  has  burned  her  father's  farm, 
is  a  partisan  of  Magnus.  In  the  absence  of  her 
lover  she  goes  to  the  latter's  camp  and  brings  back 
with  her  a  dozen  warriors  for  the  purpose  of  cap- 
turing Halvard,  and  thereby  preventing  him  from 
joining  the  enemy.  Sverre  discovers  the  warriors, 
whom  she  has  hidden  in  the  cow-stable,  and  per- 
suading them  that  he  is  a  spy  for  King  Magnus 
sends  two  of  them  to  his  OAvn  army  for  reinforce- 
ments. In  the  meanwhile  he  reconciles  the  es- 
tranged lovers,  makes  peace  between  them  and  In- 


1 6  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

ga's  father,  and  finally,  in  tlie  last  scene,  as  his  men 
arrive,  is  recognized  as  the  king. 

This  is,  of  course,  a  venerable  coup  cle  theatre. 
Whatever  novelty  there  is  in  the  play  must  be 
sought,  not  in  the  situations,  but  in  the  pithy  and 
laconic  dialogue,  which  has  a  distinct  national  col- 
oring. This  was  not  the  amiable  dilfuseness  of 
Oehlenschlaeger,  who  hud  hitherto  dominated  the 
Norwegian  as  well  as  the  Danish  stage  ;  and  yet  it 
did  not  by  any  means  represent  so  complete  a 
breach  with  the  traditions  of  the  romantic  drama 
as  was  claimed  by  Bjornson's  admirers.  The  fresh 
naturalness  and  absence  of  declamation  were  a 
gain,  no  doubt  ;  but  there  are  yet  several  notes 
remaining  which  have  the  well-known  romantic 
cadence.  "  Between  the  Battles,"  though  too 
slight  to  be  called  an  achievement,  was  accepted 
as  a  pledge  of  achievement  in  future. 

Bjornson's  next  drama  "  Limping  Hulda " 
(^'Halte-Hulda")  (1858)  was  a  partial  fulfilment 
of  this  pledge.  If  it  is  not  high  tragedy,  in  the 
ancient  sense,  it  is  of  the  stuff  that  tragedy  is 
made  of.  Hulda  is  an  impressive  stage  figure  in 
her  demoniac  passion  and  tiger -like  tenderness. 
Though  I  doubt  if  Bjornson  has,  in  this  tyi:)e, 
caught  the  soul  of  a  Norse  woman  of  the  saga  age, 
he  has  come  much  nearer  to  catching  it  than  any 
of  his  predecessors.  If  Gudrun  Osvifs  Daughter, 
of  the  Laxdoela  Saga,  was  his  model,  he  has  mod- 
ernized her  considerably,  and  thereby  made  her 
more  intelligible  to  modern  readers,     Like  her, 


BJORiVSTJEKXE   BJORXSOiV  1/ 

Ilulda  causes  tlie  murder  of  the  man  she  loves  ; 
and  there  is  a  fateful  spell  about  her  beauty  which 
brings  death  to  whomsoever  looks  too  long  upon 
it.  Though  ostensil)ly  a  saga-drama^  the  harsh- 
ness and  grim  ferocity  of  that  sanguinary  period 
are  softened  ;  and  a  romantic  illumination  per- 
vades the  whole  action.  A  certain  lyrical  effu- 
siveness in  the  love  passages  (which  is  alien  to  all 
Bjornson's  later  works)  hints  at  the  influence  of 
the  Danish  Romanticists^  and  particularly  Oehlen- 
schlaeger. 

It  would  be  unfair,  perhaps,  to  take  the  author 
to  task  because  this  youthful  drama  exhibits  no  re- 
markable subtlety  in  its  conception  of  character. 
It  contains  no  really  great  living  figure  who  stands 
squarely  upon  his  feet  and  lingers  in  the  memory. 
A  certain  half-rhetorical  impulse  carries  you  along ; 
and  the  external  effectiveness  of  the  situations 
keeps  the  interest  on  the  alert.  For  all  that 
"  Limping  Hulda,"  like  its  predecessors  and  its 
successors,  tended  to  stimulate  powerfully  the  na- 
tional spirit,  which  was  then  asserting  itself  in 
every  department  of  intellectual  activity.  Thus  a 
national  theatre  had,  by  the  perseverance  and  gen- 
erosity of  Ole  Bull,  been  established  in  his  native 
city,  Bergen  ;  and  it  was  almost  a  matter  of  course 
that  an  eifort  should  be  made  to  identify  Bjornson 
with  an  enterprise  which  accorded  so  well  with  his 
own  aspirations.  His  connection  with  the  Norwe- 
gian Theatre  of  Bergen  was,  however,  not  of  long 
duration,  for  though  your  enthusiasm  may  be  ever 


1 8      SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

SO  great  it  is  a  thankless  task  to  act  as  ^'  artistic 
director  "  of  a  stage  in  a  town  which  is  neither  ar- 
tistic enough  nor  large  enough  to  support  a  play- 
house with  a  higher  aim  than  that  of  furnishing 
ephemeral  amusement.  From  Bergen  he  was 
called  to  the  editorship  of  Afteuhladet  (The  Even- 
ing Journal),  the  second  political  daily  of  Chris- 
tiania,  and  continued  there  with  hot  zeal  and  elo- 
quence his  battle  for  "  all  that  is  truly  Norse." 

But  a  brief  experience  sufficed  to  convince  him 
that  daily  journalism  was  not  his  forte.  He  was 
and  is  too  indiscreet,  precipitate,  credulous,  and 
inconsiderately  generous  to  be  a  successful  editor. 
If  a  paper  could  be  conducted  on  purely  altruistic 
principles,  and  without  reference  to  profits,  there 
would  be  no  man  fitter  to  occupy  an  editorial 
chair.  For  as  an  inspiring  force,  as  a  radiating 
focus  of  influence,  his  equal  is  not  to  be  encoun- 
tered "in  seven  kingdoms  round."  However,  this 
inspiring  force  could  reach  a  far  larger  public 
through  published  books  than  through  the  col- 
umns of  a  newspaper.  It  was  therefore  by  no 
means  in  a  regretful  frame  of  mind  that  he  de- 
scended from  the  editorial  tripod,  and  in  the  spring 
of  1860  started  for  Italy.  Previous  to  his  depart- 
ure he  published,  through  the  famous  house  of 
Gyldendal,  in  Copenhagen,  a  volume  which,  it  is  no 
exaggeration  to  say,  has  become  a  classic  of  Norwe- 
gian literature.  It  bears  the  modest  title  ''  Smaa- 
stykker"  (Small  Pieces),  but  it  contains,  in  spite  of 
its  unpretentiousness,  some  of  Bjornson's  noblest 


BJOK.VSTJERA^E   BJOR.VSON  1 9 

work,  I  need  only  mention  the  masterly  tale  "  The 
Father/'  with  its  sobriety  and  serene  strength.  I 
know  but  one  other  instance  *  of  so  great  tragedy, 
told  in  so  few  and  simple  words.  "  Arne,"  ''En 
Glad  Gut"  (A  Happy  Boy),  and  the  amusing  dia- 
lect story,  "  Ei  Faarleg  Eriing "  (A  Dangerous 
AVooing),  also  belong  to  this  delightful  collection. 
These  little  masterpieces  of  concise  story-telling 
have  been  included  in  the  popular  two-volume  edi- 
tion of  "  Fortiillinger,"  which  contains  also  "  The 
Fisher-maiden "  (1867-68),  the  exquisite  story, 
"  The  Bridal  March"  (1872),  originally  written  as 
text  to  three  of  Tidemand's  paintings,  and  a  vig- 
orous bit  of  disguised  autobiography,  "Blakken," 
of  which  not  the  author  but  a  horse  is  the  osten- 
sible hero. 

The  descriptive  name  for  all  these  tales,  except 
the  last,  is  idyl.  It  was,  indeed,  the  period  when 
all  Europe  (outside  the  British  empire)  was  view- 
ing the  hardy  sons  of  the  soil  through  poetic  spec- 
tacles. In  Germany  Auerbach  had,  in  his  "  Black 
Forest  Village  Tales"  (1843,  1853,  1854),  dis- 
carded the  healthful  but  unflattering  realism  of 
Jeremias  Gotthelf  (1797-1854),  and  chosen,  with 
a  half-didactic  purpose,  to  contrast  the  peasant's 
honest  rudeness  and  straightforwardness  with  the 
refined  sophistication  and  hyj^ocrisy  of  the  higher 
classes.  George  Sand,  with  her  beautiful  Utopian 
genius,  poured  forth  a  torrent  of  rural  narrative 
of  a  crystalline  limpidity  ('' Mouny  Eobin,"  ''La 
*  Austin  Dobson's  poem,  "  The  Cradle." 


20      SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

Mare  au  Diable/'  ^'La  Petite  Fadette,"  etc.,  1841- 
1849),  which  is  as  far  removed  from  the  turbid 
stream  of  Balzac  ("  Les  Pay  sans  ")  and  Zola  ('^'  La 
Terre"),  as  Paradise  is  from  the  Inferno.  There 
is  an  echo  of  Kousseau^s  gospel  of  nature  in  all 
these  tales,  and  the  same  optimistic  delusion  re- 
garding "the  people"  for  which  the  eighteenth 
century  paid  so  dearly.  The  painters  likewise 
caught  the  tendency,  and  with  the  same  thorough- 
going conscientiousness  as  their  brethren  of  the 
quill,  disguised  coarseness  as  strength,  bluntness 
as  honesty,  churlishness  as  dignity.  What  an 
idyllic  sweetness  there  is,  for  instance,  in  Tide- 
mand^s  scenes  of  Norwegian  peasant  life  !  What  a 
sinrituelU  and  movingly  sentimental  note  in  the 
corresponding  German  scenes  of  Knaus  and  Hiib- 
ner,  and,  longo  intervallo,  Meyerheim  and  Meyer 
von  Bremen.  Not  a  breath  of  the  broad  humor 
of  Teniers  and  Van  Ostade  in  these  masters ; 
scarcely  a  hint  of  the  robust  animality  and  clown- 
ish jollity  with  which  the  clear-sighted  Dutchmen 
endowed  their  rural  revellers.  Though  pictorial 
art  has  not,  outside  of  Eussia  (where  the  great  and 
unrivalled  Kiepin  paints  the  peasant  with  the 
brush  as  remorselessly  as  Tolstoi  and  Dostoyefski 
with  the  pen),  kept  pace  with  the  realistic  move- 
ment in  literature,  yet  there  is  no  lack  of  evidence 
that  the  rose-colored  tinge  is  vanishing  even  from 
the  painter's  spectacles  ;  and  such  uncompromis- 
ing veracity  as  that  of  Millet  and  Courbet,  which 
the  past  generation  despised,  is  now  hailed  with 


BJORNSTJERXE  BJORNSON  21 

acclaim  in  snch  masters  as  Bastien-Lepage,  Dag- 
nan-Boiiveret,  and  the  Scandinavians,  Kristian 
Krog  and  Anders  Zorn. 

Bjornson  is,  however,  temperamentally  averse  to 
that  modern  natiiralism  which  insists  upon  a  mi- 
nute fidelity  to  fact  without  reference  to  artistic 
values.  His  large  and  spacious  mind  has  a  South- 
ern exposure,  and  has  all  "  its  windows  thrown 
wide  open  to  the  sun.''  A  sturdy  optimism,  which 
is  prone  to  believe  good  of  all  men,  unless  they 
happen  to  be  his  p.olitical  antagonists,  inclines  him 
to  overlook  what  does  not  fit  into  his  own  scheme 
of  existence.  And  yet  no  one  can  say  that,  as  pres- 
entations of  Norwegian  peasant  life,  "  Synnove," 
^'Arne,"  ''The  Bridal  March,"  etc.,  are  untrue, 
though,  indeed,  one  could  well  imagine  pictures 
in  very  much  sombrer  colors  which  might  lay  a 
valider  claim  to  veracity.  Kielland's  "  Laboring 
People,"  and  Kristian  Elster's  "A  Walk  to  the 
Cross  "  and  "  Kjeld  Horge,"  give  the  reverse  of 
the  medal  of  which  Bjornson  exhibits  the  ob- 
verse. These  authors  were  never  in  any  way 
identified  Avith  "  the  people,"  and  could  not  help 
being  struck  with  many  of  the  rude  and  unbeauti- 
ful  jjliases  of  rural  existence  ;  while  Bjornson,  Avho 
sprang  directly  from  the  peasantry,  had  the  jDride 
and  intelligence  of  kinship,  and  was  not  yet  lifted 
far  enough  above  the  life  he  depicted  to  have  ac- 
quired the  cultivated  man's  sense  of  condescension 
and  patronizing  benevolence.  He  was  but  one 
generation  removed  from  the  soil  ;  and  he  looked 


22  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

with  a  strong  natural  sympathy  and  affectionate 
predilection  nj)on  whatever  reminded  him  of  this 
origin.  If  he  had  been  a  peasant,  however,  he 
conld  never  have  become  the  wonderful  chronicler 
that  he  is.  It  is  the  elevation,  slight  though  it 
be,  which  enables  him  to  survey  the  fields  in  which 
his  fathers  toiled  and  suffered.  Or,  to  quote  Mr. 
Bolfsen  :  "  Bjornson  is  the  son  of  a  clergyman ; 
he  has  never  himself  personally  experienced  the 
peasant's  daily  toil  and  narrow  parochial  vision. 
He  has  felt  the  power  of  the  mountains  over  his 
mind,  and  been  filled  with  longing,  as  a  grand 
emotion,  but  the  contractedness  of  the  spiritual 
horizon  has  not  tormented  him.  He  has  not  to 
take  that  into  account  when  he  writes.  During 
the  tedious  school -days,  his  beautiful  Romsdal 
valley  lay  waiting  for  him,  beckoning  him  home 
at  every  vacation — always  alluring  and  radiant, 
with  an  idyllic  shimmer." 

Hence,  no  doubt,  his  sunny  poetic  vision  which 
unconsciously  idealizes.  Just  as  in  daily  inter- 
course he  displays  a  positive  genius  for  drawing 
out  what  is  good  in  a  man,  and  brushes  away  as  of 
small  account  what  does  not  accord  with  his  own 
conception  of  him,  nay,  in  a  measure,  forces  him  to 
be  as  he  believes  him  to  be,  so  every  character  in 
these  early  tales  seems  to  bask  in  the  genial  glow  of 
his  optimism.  The  farm  Solbakken  (Sunny  Hill) 
lies  on  a  high  elevation,  where  the  sun  shines  from 
its  rise  to  its  setting,  and  both  S}Tinove  and  her 
parents  walk  about  in  this  still  and  warm  illumina- 


BJORNSTJERNE  BJORNSON  23 

tion.  They  are  all  good,  estimable  people,  and 
their  gentle  piety,  without  any  tinge  of  fanati- 
cism, invests  them  with  a  quiet  dignity.  The 
sterner  and  hardier  folk  at  Granliden  (Pine  Glen) 
have  a  rugged  honesty  and  straightforwardness 
which,  in  connection  with  their  pithy  and  laconic 
speech,  makes  them  less  genial,  but  no  less  typi- 
cally Norse.  They  have  a  distinct  atmosphere 
and  spinal  columns  that  keep  them  erect,  or- 
ganic, and  significant.  Even  reprehensible  char- 
acters like  Aslak  and  Nils  Tailor  (in  "Arne^') 
have  a  certain  claim  upon  our  sympathy,  the  for- 
mer as  a  helpless  victim  of  circumstance,  the  latter 
as  a  suppressed  and  perverted  genius. 

In  the  spring  of  1860  Bjornson  went  abroad  and 
devoted  three  years  to  foreign  travel,  spending  the 
greater  part  of  his  time  in  Italy.  From  Rome  he 
sent  home  the  historical  drama  "King  Sverre^' 
(1861),  which  is  one  of  his  weakest  productions. 
It  is  written  in  blank  verse,  with  occasional  rhymes 
in  the  more  impressive  passages.  Of  dramatic  in- 
terest in  the  ordinary  sense,  there  is  but  little.  It 
is  a  series  of  more  or  less  animated  scenes,  from 
the  period  of  the  great  civil  war  (1130-1240),  con- 
nected by  the  personality  of  Sverre.  Under  the 
mask,  however,  of  mediaeval  history,  the  author 
preaches  a  political  sermon  to  his  own  contempo- 
raries. Sverre,  as  the  champion  of  the  common 
people  against  the  tribal  aristocracy,  and  the  wily 
Bishop  Nicholas  as  the  representative  of  the  latter 
become,  as  it  were,  permanent  forces,  which  have 


24  SCANDIISfAVIAN  LITERATURE 

continned  their  battle  to  the  present  day.  There 
can  be  no  doubt  that  Bjornsou,  whose  sympathies 
are  strongly  democratic,  permitted  the  debate  be- 
tween the  two  to  become  needlessly  didactic,  and 
strained  historical  verisimilitude  by  veiled  al- 
lusions to  contemporaneous  conditions.  Greatly 
superior  is  his  next  drama,  ''  Sigurd  Slembe  "  * 
(1862). 

The  story  of  the  brave  and  able  pretender,  Si- 
gurd Slembe,  in  his  struggle  with  the  vain  and 
mean-spirited  king,  Harold  Gille,  is  the  theme  of 
the  dramatic  trilogy.  Bjornson  attempts  to  give 
the  spiritual  development  of  Sigurd  from  the  mo- 
ment he  becomes  acquainted  with  his  royal  birth 
until  his  final  destruction.  From  a  frank  and 
generous  youth,  who  is  confident  that  he  is  born 
for  something  great,  he  is  driven  by  the  treacherj'^, 
cruelty,  and  deceit  of  his  brother,  the  king,  into 
the  position  of  a  desperate  outlaw  and  guerilla. 
The  very  first  scene,  in  the  church  of  St.  Olaf, 
where  the  boy  confides  to  the  saint,  in  a  tone  of 
honne  camaraderie,  his  joy  at  having  conquered,  in 
wrestling,  the  greatest  champion  in  the  land,  gives 
one  the  key-note  to  his  character  : 

"  Now  only  listen  to  me,  saintly  Olaf  ! 
To-day  I  whipped  young  Beintein  !     Beinteiu  was 
Tlie  strongest  man  in  Norway.     Now  am  I ! 
Now  I  can  walk  from  Lindesnas  and  on, 
Up  to  the  northern  boundary  of  the  snow, 

*  An  English  version  of  "  Sigurd  Slembe  "  has  been  published 
by  William  Morton  Payne  (Boston,  1888). 


BJOKNSTJERNE  B J  OR  N SON  2$ 

For  no  one  step  aside  or  lift  my  hat. 

Tliere  wliere  I  am,  no  man  hatli  leave  to  fight, 

To  make  a  tumult,  threaten,  or  to  swear — 

Peace  everywhere  !     And  he  who  wrong  hath  suffered 

Shall  Justice  find,  until  the  laws  shall  sing. 

And  as  before  the  great  have  whipped  the  small. 

So  will  I  help  the  small  to  whip  the  great. 

Now  I  can  offer  counsel  at  the  Thing, 

Now  to  the  king's  board  I  can  boldly  walk 

And  sit  beside  him,  saying  '  Here  am  II'" 

The  exultation  in  victory  which  speaks  in  every 
line  of  this  opening  monologue  marks  the  man 
who,  in  sjjite  of  the  obscurity  of  his  origin,  feels 
his  riglit  to  be  first,  and  who,  in  tliis  victory,  cele- 
brates the  attainment  of  his  birtliright.  Equally 
luminous  by  way  of  cliaracterization  is  his  exclam- 
ation to  St.  Olaf  when  he  hears  that  he  is  King 
Magnus  Barefoot's  son  : 

' '  Then  we  are  kinsmen,  Olaf,  you  and  I !  " 

According  to  Norwegian  law  at  that  time,  every 
son  of  a  king  was  entitled  to  his  share  of  the  king- 
dom, and  Sigurd's  first  impulse  is  to  go  straight  to 
Harold  Gille  and  demand  his  right.  His  friend 
Koll  Saebjornson  persuades  him,  however,  to 
abandon  this  hopeless  adventure,  and  gives  him  a 
ship  with  which  he  sails  to  the  Orient,  takes  part 
in  many  wars,  and  gains  experience  and  martial  re- 
nown. 

The  second  part  of  the  trilogy  deals  with  Si- 
gurd's sojourn  at   the  Orkneys,  where  he  inter- 


26  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

feres  in  tlie  quarrel  between  the  Earls  Harold  and 
Paul.  The  atmosjohere  of  suspicion,  insecurity,  and 
gloom  which  hangs  like  a  j)ortentous  cloud  over 
these  scenes  is  the  very  same  which  blows  toward 
us  from  the  pages  of  the  sagas.  Bjornson  has 
gazed  deeply  into  the  heart  of  Northern  pagan- 
ism, and  has  here  reproduced  the  heroic  anarchy 
which  was  a  necessary  result  of  the  code  permit- 
ting the  individual  to  avenge  his  own  wrongs. 
The  two  awful  women,  Helga  and  Frakark,  the 
mother  and  the  aunt  of  the  earls,  are  types  which 
are  constantly  met  with  in  the  saga.  It  is  a  long- 
recognized  fact  that  women,  under  lawless  condi- 
tions, develop  the  wildest  extremes  of  ambition, 
avarice,  and  blood-thirstiness,  and  taunt  the  men 
with  their  weak  scruples.  These  two  furies  of  the 
Orkneys  plot  murder  with  an  infernal  coolness, 
which  makes  Lady  Macbeth  a  kind-hearted  woman 
by  comparison.  They  recognize  in  Sigurd  a  man 
born  for  leadership  ;  determine  to  use  him  for  the 
furtherance  of  their  plans,  and  to  get  rid  of  him, 
by  fair  means  or  foul,  when  he  shall  have  accom- 
plished his  task.  But  Sigurd  is  too  experienced 
a  chieftain  to  walk  into  this  trap.  While  appear- 
ing to  acquiesce,  he  plays  for  stakes  of  his  own,  but 
in  the  end  abandons  all  in  disgust  at  the  death  of 
Earl  Harold,  who  intentionally  puts  on  the  poi- 
soned shirt,  prepared  for  his  brother.  There  is  no 
great  and  monumental  scene  in  this  part  which  en- 
graves itself  deeply  upon  the  memory.  The  love 
scenes  with  Audhild,    the   young  cousin   of  the 


BJORNSTJERNE   BJORNSON  27 

earls,  are  incidental  and  episodical,  and  exert  uo 
considerable  influence  either  npon  Sigurd's  char- 
acter or  ui^on  the  development  of  the  intrigue. 
Historically  they  are  well  and  realistically  con- 
ceived ;  but  dramatically  they  are  not  strong. 
Another  criticism,  which  has  already  been  made 
by  the  Danish  critic,  Georg  Brandes,  refers  to  an 
offence  against  this  very  historical  sense  which  is 
usually  so  vivid  in  Bjornson.  AVhen  Frakark,  the 
Lady  Macbeth  of  the  play,  remarks,  "  I  am  far 
from  feeling  sure  of  the  individual  mortality  so 
much  i^reached  of  ;  but  there  is  an  immortality  of 
which  I  am  sure  ;  it  is  that  of  the  race,"  she  makes 
an  intellectual  somersault  from  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury into  the  nineteenth,  and  never  gets  back 
firmly  on  her  pagan  feet  again.  As  Brandes  wit- 
tily observes  :  "  People  who  talk  like  that  do  not 
torture  their  enemy  to  death  ;  they  backbite  him." 
The  third  part  opens  with  Sigurd's  appearance 
at  court,  where  he  reveals  his  origin  and  asks  for 
his  share  of  the  kingdom.  The  king  is  not  disin- 
clined to  grant  his  request,  bat  is  overruled  by  his 
councillors,  who  profit  by  his  weakness  and  rule  in 
his  name.  They  fear  this  man  of  many  battles, 
with  the  mark  of  kingship  on  his  brow  ;  and  they 
determine  to  murder  him.  But  Sigurd  escapes 
from  prison,  and,  holding  the  king  responsible  for 
the  treachery,  kills  him.  From  this  time  forth  he 
is  an  outlaw,  hunted  over  field  and  fell,  and  roam- 
ing with  untold  sufferings  through  the  mountains 
and  wildernesses.     There  he  meets  a  Finnish  maid- 


2  8  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LIT  ERA  TURE 

en  wlio  loves  him,  reveals  his  fate  to  him,  and  im- 
plores him  to  abandon  his  ambition  and  dwell 
among  her  people.  These  scenes  amid  the  eternal 
wastes  of  snow  are  perhaps  the  most  striking  in 
the  trilogy  and  most  abounding  in  exquisite 
poetic  thought.  Sigurd  hastens  hence  to  his  doom 
at  the  battle  of  Holmengra,  where  he  is  defeated, 
and,  with  fiendish  atrocity,  slowly  tortured  to 
death.  The  rather  lyrical  monologue  preceding 
his  death,  in  which  he  bids  farewell  to  life  and 
calmly  adjusts  his  gaze  to  eternity,  is  very  beauti- 
ful, but,  historically,  a  trifle  out  of  tune.  Barring 
these  occasional  lapses  from  the  key,  the  trilogy 
of  "  Sigurd  Slembe  "  is  a  noble  work. 

A  respectful,  and  in  part  enthusiastic,  reception 
had  been  accorded  to  Bjornson's  early  plays.  But 
his  first  dramatic  triumph  he  celebrated  at  the 
performance  of  "  Mary  Stuart  in  Scotland."  Ex- 
ternally this  is  the  most  eifective  of  his  plays. 
The  dialogue  is  often  brilliant,  and  bristles  with 
telling  points.  It  is  eminently  "■  actable,"  present- 
ing striking  tableaus  and  situations.  Behind  the 
author  we  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  practical  stage- 
manager  who  knows  how  a  scene  will  look  on  the 
boards  and  how  a  speech  will  sound — who  can  sur- 
mise with  tolerable  accuracy  how  they  will  affect  a 
first-night  audience. 

''  Mary  Stuart "  is  theatrically  no  less  than 
dramatically  conceived.  Theatrically  it  is  far 
sujjerior  to  Swinburne's  "  Chastelard  "  (not  to 
speak  of    his  interminable    musical    verbiage   in 


BJORS'STJERNE  BJORNSON  29 

"  Botliwell ")  but  it  is  paler,  colder,  and  poeti- 
cally inferior.  The  voluptuous  warmth  and  wealth 
of  color,  the  exquisite  levity,  the  cUbonnaire  grace 
of  the  Swinburnian  drama  we  seek  in  vain.  Bjorn- 
son  is  vigorous,  but  he  is  not  subtile.  Mere  feline 
amorousness,  such  as  Swinburne  so  inimitably  por- 
trays, he  would  disdain  to  deal  with  if  even  he  could. 
Such  a  bit  of  intricate  self-characterization  as  the 
English  poet  puts  into  the  Queen's  mouth  in  the 
first  scene  with  Ohastelard,  in  the  third  act,  lies  ut- 
terly beyond  the  range  of  the  sturdier  Norseman. 

Queen :  "  Nay,  dear,  I  liave 
No  tears  in  me  ;  I  never  shall  weep  mucli, 
I  think,  in  all  my  life  :  I  have  wept  for  wrath 
Sometimes,  and  for  mere  pain,  but  for  love's  pity 
I  cannot  weep  at  all.     I  would  to  God 
You  loved  me  less  :  I  give  you  all  I  can 
For  all  this  love  of  yours,  and  yet  I  am  sure 
I  shall  live  out  the  sorrow  of  your  death 
And  be  glad  afterwards.     You  know  I  am  sorry. 
I  should  weep  now ;  forgive  me  for  your  part. 
God  made  me  hard,  I  think.     Alas  !  you  see 
I  had  fain  been  other  than  I  am." 

Add  to  this  the  beautifully  illuminating  tlireat, 
"  I  shall  be  deadly  to  you,"  uttered  in  the  m.idst 
of  amorous  cooings  and  murmurings,  and  we  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  demoniac  depth  of  this  woman's 
nature.  Bjornson's  "  Mary  Stuart "  weeps  more 
than  once  ;  nay,  she  says  to  Bothwell,  when  he  has 
forcibly  abducted  her  to  his  castle  : 

"This  is  my  first  prayer  to  you, 
That  I  may  weep." 


30  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

Quite  in  the  same  key  is  her  exclamation  (in  the 
same  scene)  in  response  to  BothwelFs  reference  to 
her  son  : 

*'  My  son,  my  lovely  boy  !  Oh,  God,  now  he  lies 
sleeping  in  his  little  white  bed,  and  does  not  know 
how  his  mother  is  battling  for  his  sake." 

Schiller,  whose  conception  of  womankind  was  as 
honestly  single  and  respectful  as  that  of  Bjornson, 
had  set  a  notable  precedent  in  representing  Mary 
Stuart  as  a  martyr  of  a  lost  cause.  The  psycho- 
logical antitheses  of  her  character,  her  softness 
and  loving  surrender,  and  her  treachery  and  cruel- 
ty— he  left  out  of  account. 

Without  troubling  himself  greatly  about  her 
guilt,  which,  though  with  many  palliating  circum- 
stances, he  admitted,  he  undertook  to  exemplify  in 
her  the  beauty  and  exaltation  of  noble  suffering. 
His  Mary  (which  has  always  been  a  favorite  with 
tragic  actresses)  is  in  my  opinion  as  devoid  of  that 
insinuating,  sense-compelling  charm  which  alone 
can  account  for  this  extraordinary  woman's  career 
as  is  the  heroine  of  Bjornson's  play.  In  fact 
Bjornson's  Mary  lies  half-way  between  the  amor- 
ous young  tigress  of  Swinburne  and  the  statuesque 
martyr  of  Schiller.  She  is  less  intricately  femi- 
nine than  the  former,  and  more  so  than  the  latter. 
But  she  is  yet  a  long  way  removed  from  her  his- 
torical original,  who  must  have  been  a  strong  and 
full-blooded  character,  with  just  that  touch  of  mys- 
tery which  nature  always  wears  to  whomsoever 
gazes  deeply  upon  her.     That  subtile  intercoiling 


BJORNSTJERNE  BJURNSON  3 1 

of  antagonistic  traits,  which  in  a  man  could  never 
coexist,  is  to  be  found  in  many  historic  women  of 
the  Kenaissance — exquisite,  dangerous  creatures, 
half-doves,  half-serpents,  half-Clytemnestra,  half- 
Venus,  whose  full-throbbing  passion  now  made 
them  soft  and  tender,  over-brimming  with  loveli- 
ness, now  fierce  and  imperious,  tlieir  outraged 
pride  revelling  in  vengeance  and  blood.  If  BJorn- 
son  could  have  fathomed  the  depth  and  complexity 
of  the  historical  Mary  Stuart  to  the  extent  that 
Swinburne  has  done,  he  would,  no  doubt,  also 
have  devised  a  more  effective  conclusion  to  his 
play.  There  is  no  dramatic  climax,  far  less  a 
tragic  one,  in  the  dethronement  of  Mary,  and  the 
proclamation  by  John  Knox,  which  is  chiefly  an 
assertion  of  jDopular  sovereignty,  and  the  triumph 
of  the  Presbyterian  Church.  The  declaration  of 
the  final  chorus,  that 

"Evil  shall  be  routed 
And  weakness  must  follow, 
The  might  of  truth  shall  pierce 
To  the  last  retreat  of  gloom,'' 

seems  to  me  rather  to  muddle  than  to  clarify  the 
situation.  There  is  a  wavering  and  uncertain  sound 
in  it  which  seems  inappro|)riate  to  a  triumj^liant 
strain,  when  the  organist  naturally  turns  on  the 
full  force  of  his  organ.  If  (as  is  obvious)  the 
Queen  represents  the  evil,  or  at  least  the  weakness, 
which  has  been  routed,  it  would  appear  that  she 
ought  to  have  been  painted  in  quite  different  colors. 


3  2  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N'  LIT  ERA  TURE 

Bjornson's  next  dramatic  venture,  which  re- 
joices to  this  day  in  an  unabated  popularity,  was 
the  two-act  comedy,  "  Tlie  Newly  Married "  {De 
Nygifte).  Goethe  once  made  the  remark  that  he 
was  not  a  good  dramatist,  because  his  nature  was 
too  conciliatory.  Without  intending  disparage- 
ment, I  am  inclined  to  apply  the  same  judgment 
to  Bjornson.  His  sunny  optimism  shrinks  from 
irreconcilable  conflicts  and  insoluble  problems  ; 
and  in  his  desire  to  reconcile  and  solve,  he  occa- 
sionally is  in  danger  of  wrenching  his  characters 
out  of  drawing  and  muddling  their  motives.  Half 
a  dozen  critics  have  already  called  attention  to  the 
ambiguity  of  Mathilde's  position  and  intentions  in 
"  The  Newly  Married."  That  she  loves  Axel,  the 
husband,  is  clear  ;  and  the  probability  is  that  she 
meant  to  avenge  herself  upon  him  for  having  be- 
fore his  marriage  used  her  as  a  decoy,  when  the 
real  object  of  his  attention  was  her  friend  Laura. 
But  if  such  was  her  object,  she  lacked  the  strength 
of  mind  and  hardness  of  heart  to  carry  it  out,  and 
in  the  end  she  becomes  a  benevolent  providence, 
who  labors  for  the  reconciliation  of  the  estranged 
couple.  She  proves  too  noble  for  the  ignoble  role 
she  had  undertaken.  Instead  of  wrecking  the 
marriage,  she  sacrifices  herself  upon  the  altar  of 
friendship.  To  that  there  can,  of  course,  be  no 
objection  ;  but  in  that  case  the  process  of  her 
mental  change  ought  to  have  been  clearly  shown. 
In  Ibsen's  "  Rosmersholm,"  Rebecca  West,  occu- 
pying a  somewhat  similar  position,  is  subject  to 


BJORNSTJEKNE  BJORNSON  33 

the  same  ennobling  of  motive  ;  but  the  whole 
drama  hinges  upon  her  moral  evolution^  and  noth- 
ing is  left  to  inference. 

The  situation  in  "  The  Newly  Married  "  is  an 
extremely  delicate  one,  and  required  delicate  hand- 
ling. Axel,  a  young  and  gifted  lawyer,  has  mar- 
ried Laura,  the  daughter  of  a  high  and  wealthy 
official,  who  prides  himself  on  his  family  dignity 
and  connections.  Laura,  being  an  only  child,  has 
been  petted  and  spoiled  since  her  birth,  and  is  but 
a  grown-up  little  girl,  with  no  conception  of  her 
matrimonial  obligations.  She  subordinates  her 
relation  to  her  husband  to  that  to  her  parents, 
and  exasperates  the  former  by  her  bland  and  ob- 
stinate immaturity.  At  last,  being  able  to  bear  it 
no  longer,  he  compels  her  to  leave  the  home  of  her 
iiarents,  where  they  have  hitherto  been  living,  and 
establishes  himself  in  a  distant  town.  Mathilde, 
Laura's  friend,  accompanies  them,  though  it  is 
difficult  to  conjecture  in  what  capacity  ;  and  pub- 
lishes an  anonymous  novel,  in  which  she  enlightens 
the  young  wife  regarding  the  probable  results  of 
her  conduct.  She  thrusts  a  lamp  into  the  dusk  of 
her  soul  and  frightens  her  by  the  things  she  shows 
her.  She  also,  by  arousing  her  jealousy,  leads  her 
out  of  childhood,  with  its  veiled  vision  and  hapjiy 
ignorance,  into  womanhood,  with  its  unflinching 
recognition  of  the  realities  that  were  hidden  from 
the  child.  And  thus  she  paves  the  way  for  the 
reconciliation  which  takes  place  in  the  presence  of 
the  old  people,  who  pay  their  daughter  a  visit  en 
3 


34  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

route  for  Italy.  Mathilde,  having  accomplished 
her  mission,  acknowledges  the  authorship  of  the 
anonymous  novel,  and  is  now  content  to  leave 
husband  and  wife  in  the  confidence  that  they  will 
work  out  their  own  salvation. 

A  mere  skeleton  of  this  simple  plot  (which 
barely  hints  at  the  real  problem)  can,  of  course, 
give  no  conception  of  the  charm,  the  color,  and 
the  wonderful  poetic  afflatus  of  this  exquisite  little 
play.  It  may  be  well  enough  to  say  that  such  a 
situation  is  far-fetched  and  not  very  typical — that 
outside  of  ''  The  Heavenly  Twins,"  et  id  omne 
genus,  wives  who  insist  upon  remaining  maidens 
are  not  very  frequent ;  but,  in  spite  of  this  draw- 
back, the  vividness  and  emotional  force  of  the  dia- 
logue and  the  beautiful  characterization  (particu- 
larly of  the  old  governor  and  his  wife)  set  certain 
sweet  chords  in  vibration,  and  carry  the  play  to 
a  triumphant  issue. 

As  a  school-boy  I  witnessed  the  first  perform- 
ance of  "  The  Newly  Married,"  at  the  Christiania 
Theatre  (1865),  (as,  indeed,  of  all  the  Bjornsonian 
dramas  up  to  1869)  ;  and  I  yet  remember  my  sur- 
prise when,  instead  of  mail-clad  Norse  warriors, 
carousing  in  a  sooty,  log-built  hall,  the  curtain 
rose  upon  a  modern  interior,  in  which  a  fashion- 
ably attired  young  lady  kissed  a  frock-coated  old 
gentleman.  It  was  a  dire  disajipointment  to  me 
and  my  comrade,  who  had  come  thirsting  for  gore. 
But  how  completely  the  poet  conquered  us  !  Each 
phrase  seemed  to  woo  our  reluctant  ears,  and  the 


I 


Bjd'KNSTJERXE  BJOKNSON  35 

pulse  of  life  that  beat  in  the  characters  and  carried 
along  the  action  awakened  in  us  a  delighted  recog- 
nition. Truth  to  tell,  we  had  but  the  very  vaguest 
idea  of  what  was  the  prima  causa  iiialornm  ;  but 
for  all  that,  Avith  the  rest  of  the  audience,  we  were 
immensely  gratified  that  the  upshot  of  it  all  was  so 
satisfactory. 

During  the  years  1865-67  Bjornson  occupied  the 
position  of  artistic  director  of  the  Christiania  Thea- 
tre, and  edited  the  illustrated  weekly  paper,  Norsk 
FollceUacl  {"  The  Norwegian  People's  Journal "  ). 
As  the  champion  of  Norwegian  nationality  in  liter- 
ature, and  on  the  stage,  he  unfolded  an  amazing 
activity.  In  1870  he  published  "Arnljot  Gelline," 
a  lyrical  epic,  relating,  in  a  series  of  poems  of  irregu- 
lar metres,  the  story  of  the  pagan  marauder  of  that 
name,  and  his  conversion  to  Christianity  by  King 
Olaf  the  Saint.  Never  has  he  found  a  more  dar- 
ing and  tremendous  expression  for  the  spirit  of  old 
Norse  paganism  than  in  this  powerful  but  some- 
what chaotic  poem.  Never  has  anyone  gazed  more 
deeply  into  the  ferocious  heart  of  the  primitive, 
predatory  man,  whose  free,  wild  soul  had  not  yet 
been  tamed  by  social  obligations  and  the  scourge 
of  the  law.  In  the  same  year  (1870)  was  published 
the  now  classical  collection  of  "Poems  and  Songs" 
[Digte  og  Sange),  which,  it  is  no  exaggeration  to 
say,  marks  a  new  era  in  the  Norwegian  lyric. 
Among  Bjornson's  predecessors  there  are  but  two 
lyrists  of  the  first  order,  viz.,  Wergeland  and  Wel- 
haven.    The  former  was  magnificently  profuse  and 


36  SCA  NDINA  I  'I A  N"  LITER  A  TURE 

chaotic,  abounding  in  verve  and  daring  imagery  , 
but  witlial  high-sounding,  declamatory,  and,  at  his 
worst,  bombastic.  There  is  a  reminiscence  in  him 
of  Klopstock's  inflated  rhetoric  ;  and  a  certain 
dithyrambic  ecstasy — a  strained,  high-keyed  aria- 
style  which  sometimes  breaks  into  falsetto.  His 
great  rival,  AVelhaven,  was  soberer,  clearer,  more 
gravely  melodious.  He  sang  in  beautiful,  tempered 
strains,  along  the  middle  octaves,  never  ranging 
high  into  the  treble  or  deep  into  the  base.  There 
is  a  certain  Tennysonian  sweetness,  artistic  self- 
restraint,  and  plastic  simplicity  in  his  lyrics  ;  just 
as  there  is  in  Wergeland's  reformatory  ardor,  his 
noble  rage,  and  his  piling  up  of  worlds,  ^eons,  and 
eternities  a  striking  kinship  to  Shelley.  But  both 
these  poets,  though  their  patriotism  was  strong, 
were  intellectually  Europeans,  rather  than  Norwe- 
gians. The  roots  of  their  culture  were  in  the  gen- 
eral soil  of  the  century,  whose  ideas  they  had  ab- 
sorbed. Their  personalities  were  not  sufficiently 
tinged  with  the  color  of  nationality  to  give  a  dis- 
tinctly Norse  cadence  to  their  voices.  AVergeland 
seems  to  me  like  a  man  who  was  desperately  anx- 
ious to  acquire  a  national  accent  ;  but  somehow 
never  could  catch  the  trick  of  it.  As  regards 
AVelhaven,  he  was  less  aware  of  his  deficiency  (if 
deficiency  it  was)  ;  but  was  content  to  sing  of 
Norse  themes  in  a  key  of  grave,  universal  beauty. 
Of  the  new  note  that  came  into  the  Norwegian  lyric 
with  BJornson,  I  can  discover  no  hint  in  his  prede- 
cessors.   Such  a  poem  as,  for  instance,  "  Nils  Finn," 


BJORNSTJERNE  BJORiYSOAr  3/ 

with  its  inimitably  droll  refrain — how  utterly  in- 
conceivable it  would  be  in  the  mouth  of  Wergeland 
or  Welhaven  !  The  new  quality  in  it  is  as  un- 
explainable  as  the  jioem  itself  is  untranslatable.  It 
has  that  inexpressible  cadence  and  inflection  of 
the  Norse  dialect  which  you  feel  (if  you  have 
the  conditions  for  recognizing  it)  in  the  first  word 
a  Norseman  addresses  io  you.  It  has  that  won- 
derful twang  of  the  Hardanger  fiddle,  and  the 
color  and  sentiment  of  the  ballads  sung  and  the 
legendary  tales  recited  around  the  hearth  in  a  Nor- 
wegian homestead  during  the  long  winter  nights. 
With  Bjornson  it  was  in  the  blood.  It  was  his 
soul's  accent,  the  dialect  of  his  thought,  the  ca- 
dence of  his  emotion.  And  so,  also,  is  the  touching 
minor  undertone  in  the  poem,  the  tragic  strain  in 
the  half  burlesque,  which  is  again  so  deeply  Nor- 
wegian. Who  that  has  ever  been  present  at  a 
Norse  peasant  wedding  has  failed  to  be  struck  with 
the  strangely  melancholy  strain  in  the  merriest 
dances  ?  And  in  Landstad's  collection  of  ''  Nor- 
wegian Ballads  "  there  is  the  same  blending  of  hu- 
mor and  pathos  in  such  genuine  folk-songs  as 
Truls  med  hog  in,  Mindre  Alf,  and  scores  of  others. 
To  this  day  I  cannot  read  "  Nils  Finn,"  humorous 
though  it  is,  without  an  almost  painful  emotion. 
All  Norway,  with  a  host  of  precious  memories,  rises 
out  of  the  mist  of  the  past  at  the  very  first  verse  : 

"  Og  vetli  Nils  Finn  skuldi  ut  at  ga, 
Han  fek  inki  ski  'i  tel  at  hanga  pa 
— '  Dat  var  ilt'  sad  '  uppundir.'" 


38  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

Neither  Wergelaiid  nor  Welhaven  nor  any  other 
jioet  has  with  all  his  rapturous  description  of  fjord, 
valley,  and  mountain,  this  power  to  conjure  up  the 
very  soul  of  the  Norseland.  The  purely  juvenile 
rhymes  of  Bjornson,  such  as  KillebuTcken,  Lohhe- 
leg  and  Haren  og  Raeven  (''The  Hare  and  the 
Fox  "),  are  significant  because  of  the  masterly  se- 
curity with  which  they  strike  the  national  key 
and  keep  it.  Not  a  word  is  there  that  rings  false. 
And  with  what  an  exquisite  tenderness  the  elegaic 
ballad  strain  is  rendered  in  Venevil  and  "  Hidden 
Love  "  [Dulgt  Kaerliglied),  and  the  playful  in  the 
deliciously  girlish  roguery  of  Vidste  du  bare  ("If 
you  only  knew"),  and  the  bold  dash  and  young 
wantonness  of  "Marit's  Song  \" 

It  seems  to  me  that  every  Norseman's  life, 
whether  he  is  willing  to  acknowledge  it  or  not,  has 
been  made  richer  and  more  beautiful  by  this  pre- 
cious volume.  It  contains  a  legacy  to  the  Norwe- 
gian people  which  can  never  grow  old.  If  Bjorn- 
son had  written  nothing  else,  he  would  still  be  the 
first  poet  of  Norway.  How  brazen,  hollow,  and 
bombastic  sound  the  23atriotic  lyrics  of  Bjerregaard 
Johan  Storm  Munch,  S.  0.  Wolff,  etc.,  which  are 
yet  sung  at  festal  gatherings,  by  the  side  of  Bjorn- 
son's  "  Yes,  we  Love  our  Native  Country,"  and 
"  I  will  Guard  Thee,  my  Land  ! "  There  is  the 
brassy  blare  of  challenging  trumjoets  in  the  for- 
mer ;  they  defy  all  creation,  and  make  a  vast  deal 
of  impotent  and  unprofitable  noise  about  "  The 
roaring  northern  main,"  "The  ancient  Norway's 


BJORA'STJERNE   BJORNSON  39 

rocky  fastness,"  "Liberty's  temple  in  Norroway's 
valleys/'  and  "Norway's  lion,  whose  axe  doth 
threaten  him  avIio  dares  break  the  Northland's 
peace." 

Not  a  suggestion  of  this  juvenile  braggadocio  is 
there  to  be  found  in  Bjornson.  Calm,  strong,  and 
nobly  aglow  with  love  of  country,  he  has  no  need 
of  going  into  paroxysms  in  order  to  prove  his  sin- 
cerity. To  those  who  regard  the  declamatory  note 
as  indispensable  to  a  national  hymn  (as  we  have  it, 
for  instance,  in  "  Hail,  Columbia,"  and  "  The  Star- 
spangled  Banner")  the  low  key  in  Avliich  Bjorn- 
son^s  songs  are  pitched  will  no  doubt  appear  as  a 
blemish.  But  it  is  their  very  homeliness  in  con- 
nection with  the  deep,  full-throbbing  emotion 
which  beats  in  each  forceful  phrase — it  is  this,  I 
fancy,  which  has  made  them  the  common  property 
of  the  whole  people,  and  thus  in  the  truest  sense 
national.  I  could  never  tell  why  my  heart  gives  a 
leap  at  the  sound  of  the  simple  verse  : 

"  Yes,  we  love  this  land  of  ours. 
Rising  from  the  foam, 
Rugged,  furrowed,  weather-heaten, 
"With  its  thousand  homes." 

Kjerulf's  glorious  music  is,  no  doubt,  in  a  meas- 
ure accountable  for  it ;  but  even  apart  from  that, 
there  is  a  strangely  moving  power  in  the  words. 
The  poem,  as  such,  is  by  no  means  faultless.  It 
is  easy  to  pick  flaws  in  it.  The  transition  from 
the  fifth  and  sixth  lines  of  the  first  verse  :  "Love 
it,  love  it,  and  think  of  our  father  and  mother,"  to 


40  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

the  seventh  and  eighth,  ^^  And  the  saga  night  which 
makes  dreams  to  descend  upon  our  earth/'  is  un- 
warrantably forced  and  abrupt.  And  yet  who 
would  wish  it  changed  ?  It  may  be  admitted  that 
there  is  no  very  subtle  art  in  the  rude  rhyme  : 

"  I  will  guard  tliee,  my  land, 

I  will  build  thee,  my  land, 
I  will  clierisli  my  land  in  my  prayer,  in  my  cliild  I 

I  will  foster  its  weal, 

And  its  wants  I  will  heal 
From  the  boundary  out  to  the  ocean  wild  ;  " 

but,  for  all  that,  it  touches  a  chord  in  every  Norse- 
man's breast,  which  never  fails  to  vibrate  respon- 
sively. 

As  regards  Bjornson's  prosody,  I  am  aware  that 
it  is  sometimes  defective.  Measured  by  the  Ten- 
nysonian  standard  it  is  often  needlessly  rugged 
and  eccentric.  But  a  j^oet  whose  bark  carries  so 
heavy  a  cargo  of  thought  may  be  forgiven  if  oc- 
casionally it  scrapes  the  bottom.  Moreover,  the 
Norwegian  tongue  has  never,  as  a  medium  of  poe- 
try, been  polished  and  refined  to  any  such  elabo- 
rate perfection  as  the  English  language  exhibits  in 
the  hands  of  Swinburne  and  Tennyson. 

The  saga-drama,  "  Sigurd  the  Crusader,"  which 
was  also  published  in  1870,  is  a  work  of  minor  con- 
sequence. Its  purj)ose  may  be  stated  in  the  au- 
thor's own  words  : 

"'Sigurd  the  Crusader'  is  meant  to  be  what  is  called  a 
'  folk  play.'     It   is   my  intention  to  make  several  dramatic 


BJORXSTJERNE   BJORNSON  4 1 

experiments  with  grand  scenes  from  tlie  sagas,  lifting  tliem 
into  a  strong  but  not  too  heavy  frame.  By  a  'folk-play'  I 
mean  a  play  which  should  appeal  to  every  eye  and  every 
stage  of  culture,  to  each  in  its  own  way,  and  at  the  perform- 
ance of  which  all,  for  the  time  being,  would  experience  the 
joy  of  fellow-feeling.  The  common  history  of  a  people  is 
best  available  for  this  purpose — nay,  it  ought  dramatically 
never  to  be  treated  otherwise.  The  treatment  must  neces- 
sarily be  simple  and  the  emotions  predominant ;  it  should  be 
accompanied  with  music,  and  the  development  should  pro- 
gress in  clear  groups.      .     . 

"  The  old  as  well  as  the  new  historic  folk  literature  will, 
with  its  corresponding  comic  element,  as  I  think,  be  a  great 
gain  to  the  stage,  and  will  preserve  its  connection  with  the 
people  where  this  has  not  already  been  lost — so  that  it  be  no 
longer  a  mere  institution  for  amusement,  and  that  only  to  a 
single  class.  Unless  we  take  ihis  view  of  our  stage,  it  will 
lose  its  right  to  be  regarded  as  a  national  affair,  and  the  best 
part  of  its  purpose,  to  unite  while  it  lifts  and  makes  us  free, 
will  be  gradually  assumed  by  some  other  agency.  Nor  sliall 
we  ever  get  actors  fit  for  anything  but  trifles,  unless  we  aban- 
don our  foreign  French  tendency  as  a  leading  one  and  substi- 
tute the  national  needs  of  our  own  people  in  its  place." 

It  would  be  interesting  to  note  how  the  poet  has 
attempted  to  solve  a  problem  so  important  and  so 
difficult  as  this.  In  the  first  place,  we  find  in 
"  Sigurd  the  Crusader  "  not  a  trace  of  a  didactic 
purpose  beyond  that  of  familiarizing  the  people 
with  its  own  history,  and  this,  as  he  himself  ad- 
mits in  the  preface  jus.t  quoted,  is  merely  a  second- 
ary consideration.  He  wishes  to  make  all,  irre- 
spective of  age,  culture,  and  social  station,  feel 
strongly  the  bond  of  their  common  nationality  ; 
and,  with  this  in  view,  he  proceeds  to  unroll  to 


42  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

them  a  panorama  of  simple  but  striking  situations, 
knit  together  by  a  plot  or  story  which,  without  the 
faintest  tinge  of  sensationalism,  appeals  to  those 
broadly  human  and  national  sympathies  Avhich 
form  the  common  mental  basis  of  Norse  ignorance 
and  Norse  culture.  He  seizes  the  point  in  the 
saga  where  the  long-smonldering  hostility  between 
the  royal  brothers,  Sigurd  the  Crusader  and  Ey- 
stein,  has  broken  into  full  blaze,  and  traces,  in  a 
series  of  vigorously  sketched  scenes,  the  intrigue 
and  counter  -  intrigue  which  hurry  the  action 
onward  toward  its  logically  prepared  climax — a 
mutual  reconciliation.  The  dialogue  is  pithy, 
simple,  and  sententious.  Nevertheless  the  play,  as 
a  whole,  makes  the  impression  of  incompleteness. 
It  is  a  dramatic  sketch  rather  than  a  drama.  It 
marks  no  advance  on  Bjornson's  previous  work  in 
the  same  line  ;  but  perhaps  rather  a  retrogression. 


II 


A  PERIOD  is  apt  to  come  in  the  life  of  every  man 
who  is  spiritually  alive,  when  his  scholastic  cult- 
ure begins  to  appear  insufficient  and  the  tradi- 
tional premises  of  existence  seem  in  need  of  read- 
justment and  revision.  This  j)eriod,  with  the  spir- 
itual crisis  which  it  involves,  is  likely  to  occur 
between  the  thirtieth  and  the  fortieth  meridian. 
Ibsen  was  thirty -four  years  old  (1862)  when  in 
"  The  Comedy  of  Love  "  he  broke  with  the  roman- 


BJORNSTJERNE  BJORNSOIV  43 

ticism  of  his  youtb^  and  began  to  wrestle  with  the 
problems  of  contemporary  life.  Goethe  was  thirty- 
seven  when,  in  1786,  he  turned  his  back  upon  the 
Storm  and  Stress,  and  in  Italy  sought  and  gained 
a  new  and  saner  vision  of  the  world.  This  re- 
newal of  the  sources  which  water  the  roots  of  his 
spiritual  being  becomes  an  imperative  necessity  to 
a  man  when  he  has  exhausted  the  sources  which 
tradition  supplies.  It  is  terrible  to  wake  up  one 
morning  and  see  one's  past  life  in  a  new  and 
strange  illumination,  and  the  dust  of  ages  lying 
inch-thick  upon  one's  thoughts.  It  is  distressing 
to  have  to  pretend  that  you  do  not  hear  the  doubt 
which  whispers  early  and  late  in  your  ear,  Vani- 
tas,  vanitas,  vanitas  vanitatum.  Few  are  those 
of  us  who  have  the  courage  to  face  it,  to  rise  up 
and  fight  with  it,  and  rout  it  or  be  routed  by  it. 

Bjornson  had  up  to  this  time  (1870)  built  solely 
upon  tradition.  He  had  been  orthodox,  and  had 
exalted  childlike  peace  and  faith  above  doubt  and 
struggle.  Phrases  indicative  of  a  certain  spiritual 
immaturity  are  scattered  through  his  early  poems. 
In  "  The  Child  in  our  Soul,"  he  says,  for  instance  : 
"  The  greatest  man  on  earth  must  cherish  the  child 
in  his  soul  and  listen,  amid  the  thunder,  to  what 
it  whispers  low  ;  "  and  again  :  "  Everything  great 
that  thought  has  invented  sprouted  forth  in  child- 
like joy  ;  and  everything  strong,  sprung  from  what 
is  good,  obeyed  the  child's  voice."  Though  in  a 
certain  sense  that  may  be  true  enough,  it  belongs 
to  the  kind  of  half-truths  which  by  constant  repe- 


44  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

tition  grow  pernicious  and  false.  The  man  who  at 
forty  assumes  the  child's  attitude  of  mere  wonder- 
ing accejstance  toward  the  world  and  its  problems, 
may,  indeed,  be  a  very  estimable  character  ;  but 
he  will  never  amount  to  much.  It  is  the  honest 
doubters,  the  importunate  questioners,  the  inde- 
fatigable fighters  who  have  broken  humanity's 
shackles,  and  made  the  world  a  more  comfortable 
abiding-place  to  the  present  generation  than  it  was 
to  the  past.  There  is  unquestionably  a  strain  of 
Danish  romanticism  in  Bjornson's  persistent  harp- 
ing upon  childlike  faith  and  simplicity  and  a 
childlike  vision  of  the  world.  Grundtvig,  with 
whom  this  note  is  pervasive,  had  in  his  early  youth 
a  great  influence  over  him.  The  glorification  of 
primitive  feeling  was  part  of  the  romantic  revolt 
against  the  dry  rationalism  of  the  so-called  period 
of  enlightenment. 

To  account  for  the  fact  that  so  mighty  a  spirit 
as  Bjornson  could  have  reached  his  thirty-eighth 
year  before  emerging  from  this  state  of  idyllic 
naivete,  I  am  inclined  to  quote  the  following  pas- 
sage from  Brandes,  descriptive  of  the  condition  of 
the  Scandinavian  countries  during  the  decade  pre- 
ceding 1870  : 

*'  While  the  intellectual  life  languished,  as  a 
plant  droops  in  a  close,  confined  place,  the  people 
were  self-satisfied — though  not  with  a  joyous  or 
noisy  self-satisfaction  ;  for  there  was  much  sadness 
in  their  minds  after  the  great  disasters  [the  Sles- 
wick  -  Holstein    War].     .     .     .     They   rested   on 


BJORNSTJERNE   BJORNSON  45 

tlioir  laurels  and  fell  into  a  doze.  And  while  tliey 
dozed  they  had  dreams.  The  cultivated,  and  es- 
pecially the  half-cultivated,  public  in  Denmark 
and  Norway  dreamed  that  they  were  the  salt  of 
Europe.  They  dreamed  that  by  their  idealism — 
the  ideals  of  Grundtvig  and  Kierkegaard  —  and 
their  strong  vigilance,  they  regenerated  the  foreign 
nations.  They  dreamed  that  they  were  the  power 
which  coiild  rule  the  world,  but  which,  for  mys- 
terious and  incomprehensible  reasons,  had  for  a 
long  series  of  years  preferred  to  eat  crumbs  from 
the  foreigners'  table.  They  dreamed  that  they 
were  the  free,  mighty  North,  which  led  the  cause 
of  the  peoples  to  victory — and  they  woke  up  un- 
free,  impotent,  ignorant."  * 

Though  there  is  a  good  deal  of  malice,  there  is 
no  exaggeration  in  this  unflattering  statement. 
Scandinavia  had  by  its  own  choice  cut  itself  off 
from  the  cosmopolitan  world  life  ;  and  the  great 
ideas  Avhicli  agitated  Europe  found  scarcely  an 
echo  in  the  three  kingdoms.  In  my  own  boyhood, 
which  coincides  with  Bjornson's  early  manhood,  I 
heard  on  all  hands  expressions  of  self -congratula- 
tion because  the  doubt  and  fermenting  restlessness 
which  were  undermining  the  great  societies  abroad 
had  never  ruffled  the  placid  surface  of  our  good, 
old  -  fashioned,  Scandinavian  orthodoxy.  How 
heartily  Ave  laughed  at  the  absurdities  of  Darwin, 
who,  as  we  had  read  in  the  newspapers,  believed 
that  he  was  descended  from  an  ape  !     How  deeply, 

*  Brandes  :  Det  Modeme  Gjeunembrud's  Maend,  pp.  44,  45. 


46  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LIT  ERA  TURE 

densely,  and  solidly  ignorant  we  were  ;  and  yet 
how  superior  we  felt  in  the  midst  of  our  igno- 
rance ! 

All  this  must  be  taken  into  account,  if  we  are  to 
measure  the  significance,  as  well  as  the  courage,  of 
Bjornson's  apostasy.  For  five  years  (1870-74) 
lie  published  nothing  of  an  aesthetical  character. 
But  he  plunged  with  hot  zeal  into  political  life, 
not  only  because  he  needed  an  outlet  for  his  pent- 
up  energy  ;  but  because  the  question  at  issue  en- 
gaged him,  heart  and  soul.  The  equal  and  co- 
ordinate position  of  Norway  and  Sweden  under  the 
union  had  been  guaranteed  by  the  Constitution  of 
1814 ;  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  former  king- 
dom is  by  all  the  world  looked  upon  as  a  depend- 
ency, if  not  a  province,  of  the  latter.  The  Berna- 
dottes,  lacking  comprehension  of  the  Norwegian 
character,  had  shown  themselves  purblind  as  bats 
in  their  dealings  with  Norway.  They  had  mis- 
taken a  perfectly  legitimate  desire  for  self-govern- 
ment for  a  demonstration  of  hostility  to  Sweden 
and  the  royal  house  ;  and  instead  of  identifying 
themselves  with  the  national  movement  (which 
they  might  well  have  done),  they  fought  it,  first 
by  cautious  measures  of  repression,  and  later  by 
vetoes  and  open  defiance.  Charles  XV.,  and, 
later,  Oscar  II.,  kept  the  minority  ministries, 
Stang  and  Selmer,  in  jiower,  with  a  bland  disre- 
gard of  popular  condemnation,  and  snapped  their 
fingers  at  the  parliamentary  majorities  which,  for 
well-nigh  a  quarter  of  a  century,  fought  persist- 


BJORNSTJERNE   BJORNSON  47 

eutly,  bravely,  and  not  altogether  vainly,  for  tlieir 
country's  rights. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  Norway  is  the  most  dem- 
ocratic country  in  Europe,  if  not  in  the  world. 
There  is  a  far  sturdier  sense  of  personal  worth,  a 
far  more  fearless  assertion  of  equality,  and  a  far 
more  democratic  feeling  permeating  society  than, 
for  instance,  in  the  United  States.  Sweden,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  essentially  an  aristocratic  country, 
with  a  landed  nobility  and  many  other  remnants 
of  feudalism  in  her  political  and  social  institutions. 
Two  countries  so  different  in  character  can  never 
be  good  yoke-fellows.  They  can  never  develop  at 
an  even  pace,  and  the  fact  of  kinship  scarcely 
helps  matters  where  the  temperaments  and  the 
conditions  are  so  widely  dissimilar.  Brothers  who 
fall  out  are  apt  to  fight  each  other  the  more  fiercely 
on  account  of  the  relationship.  Bjornson  certainly 
does  not  cherish  any  hatred  of  Sweden,  nor  do  I 
believe  that  there  is  any  general  animosity  to  the 
Swedish  people  to  be  found  anywhere  in  Norway. 
It  is  most  unfortunate  that  the  mistaken  policy  of 
the  Bernadottes  has  placed  the  two  nations  in  an 
attitude  of  apparent  hostility.  In  spite  of  the 
loud  denunciation  of  Norway  by  the  so-called 
Grand  Sv\^edish  party,  and  the  equally  vociferous 
response  of  the  Norwegian  journals  (of  the  Left) 
there  is  a  strong  sympathy  between  the  democracy 
of  Norway  and  that  of  Sweden,  and  a  mutual  re- 
spect which  no  misrepresentation  can  destroy. 

It  was  Bjornson  who,  in  1873,  began  the  agitation 


48  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LIT  ERA  TURE 

for  tlie  actual  and  not  merely  nominal,  equality  of 
the  two  kingdoms ;  *  he  appealed  to  the  national 
sense  of  honor,  and  by  his  kindling  eloquence 
aroused  the  tremendous  popular  indignation  that 
swept  the  old  ministry  of  Stang  from  power,  and 
caused  the  impeachment  and  condemnation  of  the 
Selmer  ministry.  It  would  seem  when  the  king, 
in  1882,  charged  the  liberal  leader,  Mr.  Johan 
Sverdrup,  to  form  a  ministry,  that  parliamentar- 
ism had  actually  triumphed.  But  unhappily  a  new 
Stang  ministry  (the  chief  of  which  is  the  son  of 
the  old  premier)  has,  recently  (1893)  re-established 
the  odious  minority  rule,  which  sits  like  a  night- 
mare upon  the  nation's  breast,  checking  its  respi- 
ration, and  hindering  its  natural  development. 

During  this  period  of  national  self-assertion 
Bjornson  has  unfolded  a  colossal  activity.  Though 
holding  no  office,  and  steadily  refusing  an  election 
to  the  Storthing,  he  has  been  the  life  and  soul  of 
the  liberal  party.  The  task  which  he  had  under- 
taken grew  upon  his  hands,  and  assumed  wider  and 
wider  dimensions.  As  his  predecessor  Wergeland 
had  done,  and  in  a  far  deeper  sense,  he  consecrated 
his  life  to  the  spiritual  and  intellectual  liberation 
of  his  people.  It  is  told  of  the  former  that  he  was 
in  the  habit  of  walking  about  the  country  with  his 
pockets  full  of  seeds  of  grass  and  trees,  of  which 

*  I  had  the  pleasure  of  accompanying  Bjornson  on  his  first  po- 
litical tour  in  the  summer  of  1873,  and  I  shall  never  forget  the  tre- 
mendous impression  of  the  man  and  his  mighty  eloquence  at  the 
great  folk-meeting  at  Boe  in  Guldbrandsdalen. 


BJORNSTJERNE  BJORNSON  49 

he  scattered  a  handful  here  and  a  handful  there  ; 
for,  he  said,  you  can  never  tell  what  will  grow  up 
after  it.  There  is  to  me  something  quite  touching 
in  the  patriotism  which  prompted  this  act.  Bjorn- 
son,  too,  is  in  the  same  sense  "  a  sower  who  went 
forth  for  to  sow."  And  the  golden  grain  of  his 
thought  falls,  as  in  the  parable,  in  all  sorts  of 
places ;  but,  unlike  some  of  the  seed  in  the  parable, 
it  all  leaves  some  trace  behind.  It  stimulates  reflec- 
tion, it  awakens  life,  it  arouses  the  torpid  soul,  it 
shakes  the  drowsy  soul,  it  shocks  the  pious  soul,  it 
frightens  the  timid  soul,  but  it  lifts  them  all,  as  it 
were,  by  main  force,  out  of  themselves,  and  makes 
healthful  breezes  blow,  and  refreshing  showers  fall 
ujDon  what  Avas  formerly  a  barren  waste.  This  is 
Bjornson's  mission  ;  this  is,  during  the  second  pe- 
riod of  his  career,  his  greatness  and  his  highest  sig- 
nificance. 

Of  course  there  are  many  opinions  as  to  the  value 
of  the  work  he  has  accomplished  in  this  capacity 
of  political  and  religious  liberator.  The  Conserva- 
tive party  of  Norway,  which  runs  the  errands  of 
the  king  and  truckles  to  Sweden,  hates  him  with  a 
bitter  and  furious  hatred ;  the  clergy  denounce  him, 
and  the  official  bureaucracy  can  scarcely  mention 
his  name  without  an  anathema.  But  the  common 
people,  though  he  has  frightened  many  of  them 
away  by  his  heterodoxy,  still  love  him.  It  is  es- 
pecially his  disrespect  to  the  devil  (whom  he  pro- 
fesses not  to  believe  in)  which  has  been  a  sore  trial 
to  the  Bible  -  reading,  hymn  -  singing  peasantry. 
4 


50  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

Does  not  the  Bible  say  that  the  devil  goes  about 
like  a  roaring  lion  seeking  whom  he  may  devour  ? 
Nevertheless  Bjornson  has  the  hardihood  to  assert 
that  there  is  no  such  person.  And  yet  Bjornson 
is  a  man  who  can  talk  most  beautifully,  and  who 
knows  as  much  as  any  parson.  It  is  extremely 
puzzling. 

The  fact  was,  Bjorn son's  abr)lition  of  the  devil, 
and  his  declaration  of  war  against  the  orthodox 
miracle  faith,  were,  as  far  as  the  Norwegian  peo- 
ple were  concerned,  somewhat  premature.  The 
peasant  needs  the  old  scriptural  devil,  and  is  not 
yet  ready  to  dispense  with  him.  The  devil  is  a 
popular  character  in  the  folk-stories  and  legends, 
and  I  have  known  some  excellent  people  who  de- 
clare that  they  have  seen  him.  Creeds  are  like 
certain  ancient  tumuli,  whicli  now  are  but  graves, 
but  were  once  the  habitations  of  living  men. 
The  dust,  ashes,  and  bones  of  defunct  life  which 
they  often  contain,  nourish  in  the  dark  the  green 
grass,  the  fair  flowers,  the  blooming  trees,  that 
shoot  up  into  the  light.  You  cannot  dig  it  all 
up  and  throw  it  out  without  tearing  asunder  the 
net-work  of  roots  which  organically  connects  the 
living  with  the  dead. 

Bjornson,  though  he  is  an  evolutionist,  is  far 
removed  from  the  philosophic  temper  in  his  deal- 
ings with  the  obsolete  or  obsolescent  remnants  in 
political  and  religious  creeds.  He  has  the  health- 
ful intolerance  of  strong  conviction.  He  is  too 
good  a  partisan  to  admit  that  there  may  be  another 


BJORNSTJERNE   BJOKXSON  5 1 

side  to  the  question  which  might  be  wortli  con- 
sidering. With  magnificent  ruthlessness  he  plunges 
ahead,  and  with  a  truly  old  Norse  pugnacity  he 
stands  in  the  thick  of  the  fight,  rejoicing  in  battle. 
Only  combat  arouses  his  Titanic  energy  and  calls 
all  his  sjolendid  faculties  into  play. 

Even  apart  from  his  2)olitical  propaganda  the 
years  1870-74  were  a  period  of  labor  and  ferment 
to  Bjornson.  The  mightier  the  man,  the  mighti- 
er the  powers  enlisted  in  his  conversion,  and  the 
mightier  the  struggle.  A  tremendous  wrench  was 
required  to  change  his  point  of  view  from  that  of 
a  childlike,  wondering  believer  to  that  of  a  critical 
sceptic  and  thinker.  In  a  certain  sense  Bjornson 
never  took  this  step ;  for  when  the  struggle  was 
over,  and  he  had  readjusted  his  vision  of  life  to  the 
theory  of  evolution,  he  became  as  ardent  an  adhe- 
rent of  it  as  he  had  ever  been  of  the  na'ivc  Grundt- 
vigian  miracle-faith.  And  with  the  deep  need  of 
his  nature  to  pour  itself  forth — to  share  its  treas- 
ures with  all  the  world — he  started  out  to  jiroclaim 
his  discoveries.  Besides  Darwin  and  Spencer,  he 
had  made  a  study  of  Stuart  Mill,  whose  noble  sense 
of  fair-play  had  impressed  him.  He  X)lunged  with 
hot  zeal  into  the  writings  of  Steinthal  and  Max  Miil- 
ler,  whose  studies  in  comparative  religion  changed 
to  him  the  whole  aspect  of  the  universe.  Taine's 
historical  criticism,  with  its  disrespectful  derivation 
of  the  hero  from  food,  climate,  and  race,  lured  him 
still  farther  away  from  his  old  Norse  and  romantic 
landmarks,  until  there  was  no  longer  any  hojje  of 


52  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

his  ever  returning  to  them.  But  when  from  this 
promontory  of  advanced  thought  he  looked  back 
upon  his  idyllic  love-stories  of  peasant  lads  and 
lasses,  and  his  taciturn  saga  heroes,  with  their 
predatory  self-assertion,  he  saw  that  he  had  done 
with  them  forever  ;  that  they  could  never  more 
enlist  his  former  interest.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
problems  of  modern  contemporary  life,  of  which 
he  had  now  gained  quite  a  new  comprehension, 
tempted  him.  The  romantic  productions  of  his 
youth  appeared  as  a  more  or  less  arbitrary  play 
of  fancy  emancipated  from  the  stern  logic  of 
reality.  It  was  his  purj)ose  henceforth  to  con- 
secrate his  powers  to  the  study  of  the  deeper  soul- 
life  of  his  own  age  and  the  exposition  of  the  forces 
Avhich  in  their  interdependence  and  interaction 
make  modern  society. 

This  is  the  significance  of  the  four-act  drama 
"  Bankruptcy,"  with  which,  in  1874,  he  astounded 
and  disappointed  the  Scandinavian  public.  I  have 
called  it  a  drama,  in  accordance  with  the  author's 
designation  on  the  title-page  ;  but  it  is,  in  the  best 
sense,  a  comedy  of  manners,  of  the  kind  that  An- 
gler produced  in  France  ;  and  in  everything  ex- 
cept the  mechanics  of  construction  superior  to  the 
plays  of  Sardou  and  Dumas.  The  dialogue  has  the 
most  admirable  accent  of  truth.  It  is  not  unnat- 
urally witty  or  brilliant ;  but  exhibits  exactly  the 
traits  which  Norwegians  of  the  higher  commercial 
plutocracy  are  likely  to  exhibit.  All  the  poetic 
touches  which    charmed    us  in    Bjornson's   saga 


BJORNSTJERNE  BjiJRNSON  53 

dramas  were  conspicuous  by  tlieir  absence.  Scarce- 
ly a  trace  was  there  left  of  that  peculiar  and  de- 
lightful language  of  his  early  novels,  which  can 
only  be  described  by  the  term  "  Bjorusonian." 

"  Dry,  prosaic,  trivial,"  said  the  reviewers  ; 
"  Bjornson  has  evidently  worked  out  his  vein. 
He  has  ceased  to  be  a  j)oet.  He  has  lost  with  his 
childhood's  faith  his  ideal  view  of  life,  and  become 
a  mere  prosy  chronicler  of  uninteresting  everyday 
events." 

This  was,  indeed,  the  general  verdict  of  the  pub- 
lic twenty  years  ago.  Scarcely  anyone  had  a  good 
word  to  say  for  the  abused  play  that  marked  the 
poet's  fall  from  the  idealism  of  his  early  song.  But, 
for  all  that,  ''  BankrujDtcy  "  made  a  strong  impres- 
sion upon  the  boards.  It  not  only  conquered  a 
permanent  place  in  the  repertoires  of  the  theatres 
of  the  Scandinavian  capitals,  but  it  spread  through 
Austria,  Germany,  and  Holland,  and  has  finally 
scored  a  success  at  the  Tliedtre  Libre  in  Paris. 
There  is  scarcely  a  theatre  of  any  consequence  in 
Germany  which  has  not  made  "  Bankruptcy  "  part 
of  its  repertoire.  At  the  Royal  Theatre  in  Munich 
it  was  accorded  a  most  triumphant  reception,  and 
something  over  sixty  representations  has  not  yet 
exhausted  its  popularity. 

The  effort  to  come  to  close  quarters  with  reality 
is  visible  in  every  phrase.  The  denial  of  the  value 
of  all  the  old  romantic  stage  machinery,  with  its 
artificial  climaxes  and  explosive  efl:ects,  is  percepti- 
ble in  the  quiet  endings  of  the  acts  and  the  entire- 


54  SC A iWDINAVI AN  LITERATURE 

ly  imsensational  exposition  of  the  dramatic  ac- 
tion. Tliere  is  one  scene  (and  by  no  means  an 
unnatural  one)  in  wliicli  there  is  a  touch  of  vio- 
lence, viz.,  where  Tjaelde,  while  he  hopes  to  avert 
his  bankruptcy,  threatens  to  shoot  Lawyer  Berent 
and  himself  ;  but  there  is  a  very  human  quiver  in 
the  threat  and  in  the  passionate  outbreak  which 
precedes  it.  Nowhere  is  there  a  breath  of  that 
superheated  hot-house  atmosphere  which  usually 
pervades  the  modern  drama. 

''  Bankruptcy"  deals,  as  the  title  indicates,  with 
the  question  of  financial  honesty.  Zola  has  in  Le 
Roman  Sentimental  made  the  observation  that 
"  absolute  honesty  no  more  exists  than  perfect 
healthfulness.  There  is  a  tinge  of  the  human 
beast  in  us  all,  as  there  is  a  tinge  of  illness." 
Tjaelde,  the  great  merchant,  exemplifies  this  prop- 
osition. He  is  a  fairly  honest  man,  who  by  the 
modern  commercial  methods,  which,  in  self-de- 
fence, he  has  been  forced  to  adopt,  gets  into  the 
position  of  a  rogue.  The  commandment,  "  Thou 
shalt  not  steal,"  seems  at  first  glance  an  extremely 
simple  injunction  ;  but  in  the  light  of  Bjornson's 
searching  analysis  it  becomes  a  complex  and  intri- 
cate tangle,  capable  of  interesting  shades  and  nu- 
ances of  meaning.  Tjaelde,  in  the  author's  opinion, 
certainly  does  steal,  when,  in  order  to  save  him- 
self (and  thereby  the  thousands  who  are  involved 
in  his  aSairs),  he  speculates  with  other  people's 
money  and  presents  a  rose-colored  account  of  his 
business,  when  he  knows  that  he  is  on  the  verge  of 


BJORNSTJERNE   BJORNSON  55 

bankruptcy.  But,  on  the  other  liand,  it  is  extreme- 
ly difficult  to  determine  the  point  where  legitimate 
speculation  ceases  and  the  illegitimate  begins. 
And  if  Tjaelde  neglected  any  legitimate  means  of 
saving  his  estate  he  would  be  culpable.  A  stern 
code  of  morals  (which  the  commercial  world  of  to- 
day would  scarcely  exact),  the  poet  enforces  in  the 
fourth  act,  where  Tjaelde  refuses  to  accept  any  con- 
cession from  his  creditors,  but  insists  upon  devot- 
ing the  remainder  of  his  life  to  the  liquidation  of 
his  debts. 

Admirably  strong  and  vital  is  the  exposition  of 
the  role  and  functions  of  money  in  the  modern 
world,  and  the  nearer  and  remoter  psychological 
effects  of  the  tremendous  tyranny  of  money.  A 
certain  external  eclat  is  required  to  give  the  great 
commercial  house  the  proper  splendor  in  the  sight 
of  the  world.  Thus  Tjaelde  speculates  in  hospi- 
tality as  in  everything  else,  and  when  he  virtu- 
ally has  nothing,  makes  the  grandest  splurge  in 
order  to  give  a  spurious  impression  of  prosperity. 
Though  by  nature  an  affectionate  man,  he  neglects 
his  family  because  business  demands  all  his  time. 
He  defrauds  himself  of  the  happiness  which 
knocks  at  his  door,  because  business  fills  his  head 
by  night  and  by  day,  and  absorbs  all  his  energy. 
A  number  of  parasites  (such  as  the  fortune-hunt- 
ing lieutenant)  attach  themselves  to  him,  as  long 
as  he  is  reputed  to  be  rich,  and  make  haste  to  van- 
ish when  his  riches  take  wings.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  true  friends  whom  in  his  prosperity  he 


56  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

hectored  and  contemned  are  revealed  by  adversity. 
There  would  be  nothing  remarkable  in  so  common 
an  experience,  if  the  friends  themselves,  as  well  as 
the  parasites,  were  not  so  delightfully  delineated. 
The  lieutenant,  with  his  almost  farcical  interest  in 
the  bay  trotter,  is  amusingly  but  lightly  drawn  ; 
but  the  awkward  young  clerk,  Sannaes,  who  refuses 
to  abandon  his  master  in  the  hour  of  trial,  is  a 
deeply  typical  Norwegian  figure.  All  the  little 
coast  towns  have  specimens  to  show  of  these  aspir- 
ing, faithful,  sensitively  organized  souls,  who,  hav- 
ing had  no  social  advantages  are  painfully  con- 
scious of  their  deficiencies,  but  whose  patient 
industry  and  sterling  worth  in  the  end  will  tri- 
umph. No  less  keenly  observed  and  effectively 
sketched  is  the  whole  gallery  of  dastardly  little 
village  figures — Holm,  Falbe,  Knutson  with  an  s, 
Knutzon,  with  a  z,  etc.  Signe  and  Valborg,  the 
two  daughters  of  Tjaelde,  have,  in  spite  of  their 
diversity,  a  common  tinge  of  Norwegian  national- 
ity which  gives  a  gentle  distinctness  and  relief  to 
the  world-old  types. 

Bjornson's  next  play,*  "  The  Editor,"  grapples 
with  an  equally  modern  and  timely  subject,  viz., 
the  license  of  the  i^ress.  With  terrible  vividness  he 
shows  the  misery,  ruin,  and  degradation  which  re- 
sult from  the  present  journalistic  practice  of  mis- 

*  All  the  literary  histories  and  other  authorities  which  I  have 
consulted  put  the  publication  of  "  BankrujJtcy,"  as  well  as  that  of 
"The  Editor,"  in  1875.  But  my  own  copy  of  the  latter  play  bears 
on  its  title-page  the  year  1874. 


BJORNSTJERNE  BJORNSON  5/ 

representation,  sophistry,  and  defamation.  It  is  a 
very  dark  picture  he  draws,  with  scarcely  a  gleam 
of  light.  The  satire  is  savage  ;  and  the  quiver  of 
wrath  is  jjerceptible  in  many  a  sledge  -  hammer 
phrase.  You  feel  that  Bjornson  himself  has  suffered 
from  the  terrorism  which  he  here  describes,  and  you 
would  surmise  too,  even  if  you  did  not  know  it, 
that  the  editor  whom  he  has  here  pilloried  is  no 
mere  general  editorial  type,  but  a  well-known  per- 
son who,  until  recently,  conducted  one  of  the  most 
influential  journals  in  Norway.  The  play  is  an 
act  of  retribution,  and  a  deserved  one.  But  its 
weaknesses,  which  it  is  vain  to  disguise,  are  also  ex- 
plained by  the  author's  personal  bias  —  the  desire 
to  wreak  vengeance  upon  an  enemy. 

The  situation  is  as  follows  :  Mr.  Evje,  a  rich 
and  generally  respected  distiller,  has  a  daughter, 
Gertrude,  who  is  engaged  to  Harold  Rein,  a  politi- 
cal leader  of  jDcasant  origin.  Mr.  Eein's  brother, 
Halfdan,  from  whom  he  has,  in  a  measure,  in- 
herited the  leaderslii]},  is  dying  from  the  persecu- 
tion to  which  he  has  been  exposed  by  the  Con- 
servative press  and  public.  In  his  zeal  for  the 
Eadical  cause  it  is  his  consolation  that  he  leaves 
it  in  such  strong  hands  as  those  of  his  brother. 
The  election  is  impending  and  a  meeting  of  the 
electors  has  been  called  for  the  following  day. 
Harold  is  the  candidate  of  the  Left.  It  now  be- 
comes a  question  with  the  party  of  the  Right  so 
to  ridicule  and  defame  him  as  to  ruin  his  chances. 
His  position  as  prospective  son-in-law  of  the  rich 


5  8  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LIT  ERA  TURE 

Mr.  Evje  lends  an  air  of  importance  and  respect- 
ability to  his  candidacy.  Mr.  Evje  must  there- 
fore be  induced,  or,  if  necessary,  compelled,  to  throw 
him  overboard.  With  this  end  in  view  the  editor 
of  the  Conservative  journal  goes  to  Evje  (whose 
schoolmate  and  friend  he  has  been)  and  tries  to 
persuade  him  to  break  the  alliance  with  Rein. 
Evje,  who  prides  himself  on  his  '^  moderation" 
and  tolerance,  and  his  purpose  to  keep  aloof  from 
partisanship,  refuses  to  be  bullied ;  whereupon 
the  editor  threatens  him  with  social  ostracism  and 
commercial  ruin.  The  distiller,  who  is  at  heart 
a  coward,  is  completely  unnerved  by  this  threat. 
Well  knowing  how  a  paper  can  undermine  a  man's 
reputation  without  making  itself  liable  for  libel, 
he  sends  his  friend  the  doctor  to  the  editor,  suing 
for  peace.  Late  in  the  evening  he  meets  his  foe 
outside  of  his  house,  and  after  much  shuffling  and 
parleying  agrees  to  do  his  will.  lie  surprises  his 
daughter  and  Harold  Eein  in  a  loving  tete-a-tete, 
and  lacks  the  courage  to  carry  out  his  bargain. 
He  vainly  endeavors  to  persuade  them  to  break  the 
engagement  and  separate  until  after  the  election. 

In  the  meanwhile,  John,  a  discharged  servant 
of  Evje  (of  whose  drunkenness  and  political  radi- 
calism we  have  previously  been  informed),  has  over- 
heard the  parley  with  the  editor,  and  in  order  to 
get  even  with  his  master  countermands  in  the  edi- 
tor's name  his  order  to  the  foreman  of  the  printing- 
office  ;  and  the  obnoxious  article  which  was  in- 
tended to  be  omitted  appears  in  the  paper.     John 


BJOR.VSTJERNE   BJORXSOX  59 

also  takes  care  to  procure  Evjo  an  early  copy, 
which  first  utterly  crushes  him,  then  arouses  his 
wrath,  convinces  him  that  "holding  aloof ^  is 
mere  cowardice,  and  makes  him  resolve  to  bear  his 
share  in  the  great  political  battle.  The  meanness, 
the  malice  of  each  ingenious  thrust,  while  it  stings 
and  burns  also  awakens  a  righteous  indignation. 
He  goes  straight  to  the  lodgings  of  Harold  Kein 
and  determines  to  attend  the  Radical  meeting.  Not 
finding  him  at  home  he  goes  to  the  house  of  his 
brother  Halfdan,  where  he  leaves  the  copy  of  the 
paper.  The  sick  man  picks  it  up,  reads  an  on- 
slaught on  himself  which  in  baseness  surpasses  the 
attack  on  Evje,  starts  up  in  uncontrollable  excite- 
ment, and  dies  of  a  hemorrhage.  The  maid,  who 
sees  him  lying  on  the  floor,  cries  out  into  the  street 
for  help,  and  the  editor,  who  chances  to  pass  by, 
enters.  He  finds  the  Radical  leader  dead,  with  the 
paper  clutched  in  his  hand. 

The  fourth  act  opens  with  a  festal  arrangement 
at  Evje's  in  honor  of  the  great  success  of  Rein's 
electoral  meeting.  There  is  no  more  "  holding 
aloof."  Everybody  has  convictions  and  is  ready  to 
avow  the  party  that  upholds  them.  All  are  igno- 
rant of  Halfdan  Renin's  death,  until  the  editor  ar- 
rives, utterly  broken  in  spirit  and  asks  Evje's 
pardon.  He  wishes  to  explain,  but  no  one  wishes 
to  listen.  When  Evje  wavers  and  is  on  the  point 
of  accepting  his  profiiered  hand,  his  wife  and 
daughter  loudly  protest. 

The  editor  declares   his  purpose   to    renounce 


6o  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

journalism.  The  festivities  are  abandoned,  and 
all  betake  themselves  to  the  house  of  the  dead 
leader.  Thus  the  play  ends  ;  there  is  no  tableau, 
no  climax,  no  dramatic  catastrophe.  It  is  Zola's 
theory  *  and  Maeterlink's  practice  anticipated. 

The  journalistic  conditions  here  described  are, 
of  course,  those  of  the  Norwegian  capital  nearly  a 
quarter  of  a  century  ago.  Few  editors,  I  fancy,  out- 
side of  country  towns,  now  go  about  personally 
spreading  rumors,  with  malice  aforethought,  and 
collecting  gossip.  But  the  power  of  the  press  for 
good  and  for  ill,  and  the  terrorism  which,  in  evil 
hands,  it  exercises,  are  surely  not  exaggerated. 
But  its  most  striking  application  has  the  drama  in 
its  exposure  of  the  desperate  and  ignominious  ex- 
pedients to  which  a  party  will  resort  in  order  to 
defeat,  defame,  and  utterly  destroy  a  jDolitical  op- 
ponent. The  following  passages  may  be  worth 
quoting  : 

"  Most  of  the  successful  politicians  nowadays 
win  not  by  their  own  greatness  but  by  the  paltri- 
ness of  the  rest." 

"  Here  is  a  fine  specimen  of  a  fossil.  It  is  a 
piece  of  a  palm-leaf,  .  .  .  which  was  found  in  a 
stratum  of  Siberian  rock.  .  .  .  Thus  one  must 
become  in  order  to  endure  the  ice-storms.  Then 
one  is  not  harmed.  But  your  brother  !  In  him 
lived  yet  the  whole  murmuring,  singing  palm- 
forest.  ...  As  regards  you,  it  remains  to  be 
seen  whether  you  can   get  all  humanity  in  you 

*  "Naturalism  on  the  Stage." 


BJORXSTJERNE   BJORNSON  6 1 

completely  killed.  .  .  .  But  who  would  at  that 
price  be  a  politician  ?  .  .  .  That  one  must 
be  hardened  is  the  watchword  of  all  nowadays. 
Not  only  army  officers  but  physicians,  merchants, 
officials  are  to  be  hardened  or  dried  uj) ;  .  .  . 
hardened  for  the  battle  of  life,  as  they  say.  But 
what  does  tliat  mean  ?  We  are  to  expel  and 
evaporate  the  warmth  of  the  heart,  the  fancy's 
yearning,  .  .  .  before  we  are  fit  for  life. 
.  .  .  No,  I  say,  it  is  those  very  things  we  are 
to  preserve.     That's  what  we  have  got  them  for." 

BJornson's  increasing  Radicalism  and  his  out- 
spoken Socialistic  sympathies  had  by  this  time 
alienated  a  large  portion  of  the  Scandinavian  pub- 
lic. The  cry  was  heard  on  all  sides  that  he  had 
ceased  to  be  a  poet,  and  had  become  instead  a  mere 
political  agitator.  I  cannot  deny  myself  the  pleas- 
ure of  quoting  Bjornson's  reply  when  at  his  request 
a  friend  repeated  to  him  the  opinion  which  was 
entertained  of  him  in  certain  quarters  : 

''  Oh,  yes,"  he  cried,  with  a  wrathful  laugh, 
"'  don't  I  know  it  ?  You  must  be  a  jioet  !  You 
must  not  mingle  in  the  world's  harsh  and  jarring 
tumult.  They  have  a  notion  that  a  poet  is  a  long- 
haired man  who  sits  on  the  top  of  a  tower  and 
plays  upon  a  harp  while  his  hair  streams  in  the 
wind.  Yes,  a  fine  kind  of  poet  is  that  I  No,  my 
boy,  I  am  a  j)oet,  not  primarily  because  I  can  write 
verse  (there  are  lots  of  people  Avho  can  do  that) 
but  by  virtue  of  seeing  more  clearly,  and  feeling 
more  deeply,  and   speaking  more   truly  than  the 


62  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LIT  ERA  TURE 

majority  of  men.  All  that  concerns  humanity 
concerns  me.  If  by  my  song  or  my  speech  I  can 
contribute  ever  so  little  toward  the  amelioration  of 
the  lot  of  the  millions  of  my  poorer  fellow-creat- 
ures, I  shall  be  prouder  of  that  than  of  the  com- 
bined laurels  of  Shakespeare,  Milton,  and  Goethe.^' 

This  is  the  conception  of  a  poet  which  was  preva- 
lent in  Norway  in  the  olden  time.  The  scalds  of 
the  sagas  were  warriors  as  well  as  singers.  They 
fought  with  sword  and  battle-axe,  and  their  song 
rang  the  more  boldly  because  they  knew  how  to 
strike  up  another  tune  —  the  fierce  song  of  the 
sword.  In  modern  times  Wergeland  and  Welhaven 
have  demonstrated  not  only  the  pugnacity,  but  also 
the  noble  courage  of  their  ancestry  by  espousing 
the  cause  of  opposing  parties  during  the  struggle 
for  national  independence. 

Those  who  demand  that  literature  shall  be  un- 
tinged  by  any  tendency  or  strong  conviction  will 
do  well  to  eschew  all  the  subsequent  works  of 
Bjornson.  They  might  perhaps  put  up  with  the 
brief  novel  "  Magnhild,"  which  is  tolerably  neu- 
tral in  tone,  though  it  is  the  least  enjoyable  of  all 
Bjornson's  works.  It  gives  the  impression  that 
the  author  is  half  afraid  of  his  subject  (which  is 
an  illicit  love),  and  only  dares  to  handle  it  so  gin- 
gerly as  to  leave  half  the  tale  untold.  The  short, 
abrupt  sentences  which  seemed  natural  enough 
when  he  was  dealing  with  the  peasants,  with  their 
laconic  speech  and  blunt  manners,  have  a  forced 
and  unnatural  air  when  applied  to  people  to  whom 


BJOKXSTJERNE   BJORXSOy  63 

this  style  of  language  is  foreign.  Moreover,  these 
condensed  sentences  are  often  vague,  full  of  innu- 
endo, and  mysterious  as  hieroglyphics.  It  is  as  if 
the  author,  in  the  consciousness  of  the  delicacy  of 
his  theme,  had  lost  the  bold  security  of  touch 
which  in  his  earlier  works  made  his  meaning  un- 
mistakable. 

The  drama  "The  King"  (1877)  is  an  attack 
upon  the  monarchical  principle  in  its  political  as 
well  as  its  personal  aspect.  It  is  shown  how  de- 
structive the  royal  prerogative  is  and  must  be  to 
the  king  as  an  individual ;  how  the  artificial  regard 
which  hedges  him  in,  interposing  countless  bar- 
riers between  the  truth  and  him,  makes  his  rela- 
tions to  his  surroundings  false  and  deprives  him  of 
the  opportunity  for  self-knowledge  which  normal 
relations  supply.  Royalty  is  therefore  a  curse,  be- 
cause it  robs  its  possessor  of  the  wholesome  disci- 
pline of  life  which  is  the  riglit  of  every  man  that  is 
born  into  the  world. 

Furthermore,  there  is  an  obvious  intention  to 
show  that  the  monarchy,  being  founded  upon  a  lie, 
is  incaj)able  of  any  real  adaiDtation  to  the  age,  and 
reconciliation  with  modern  progress.  The  king  in 
the  play  is  a  young,  talented,  liberal-minded  man, 
who  is  fully  conscious  of  the  anomaly  of  his  posi- 
tion, and  determined  to  save  his  throne  by  strij)ping 
it  of  all  media3val  and  mythological  garniture.  He 
dreams  of  being  a  ''folk-king,"  the  first  citizen  of 
a  free  people,  a  kind  of  hereditary  president,  with 
no  sham  divinity  to  fall  back  upon,  and  no  "grace 


64      SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

of  God  "  to  shield  liim  from  criticism  and  sanctify 
his  bhmders.  He  resents  the  role  of  being  the  lock 
of  the  merchant's  strong-box  and  the  head  of  that 
mntual  insurance  company  which  is  called  the 
state.  He  goes  about  incoyuito,  first  in  search  of 
love  adventures,  and  later  in  order  to  acquaint 
himself  with  public  opinion  ;  and  he  proves  himself 
remarkably  unprejudiced  and  capable  of  profiting 
by  experience.  He  falls  in  love  with  Clara  Ernst, 
the  daughter  of  a  Radical  professor,  who,  on  account 
of  a  book  he  has  written,  has  been  sentenced  for 
crimen  Icbscb  majestatis,  and  in  an  attempt  to  es- 
cape from  prison  has  broken  both  his  legs.  Clara, 
who  is  supporting  her  father  in  his  exile  by  teach- 
ing, repels  the  king's  advances  with  indignation 
and  contempt.  He  perseveres,  however,  fasci- 
nated by  the  novelty  of  such  treatment.  He  man- 
ages to  convince  her  of  the  purity  of  his  motives  ; 
and  finally  succeeds  in  winning  her  love.  It  is  not 
a  liaison,  he  contemplates,  but  a  valid  and  legitimate 
marriage  for  which  he  means  to  compel  recognition. 
The  court,  which  he  has  no  more  use  for,  he  desires 
to  abolish  as  a  costly  and  degrading  luxury  ;  and  in 
its  place  to  establish  a  home — a  model  lourgeois 
home — where  affection  and  virtue  shall  flourish. 
Clara,  seeing  the  vast  significance  of  such  a  step,  is 
aglow  with  enthusiasm  for  its  realization.  It  is 
not  vanity,  but  a  lofty  faith  in  her  mission  to  re- 
generate royalty,  by  discarding  its  senseless  pomp 
and  bringing  it  into  accord  with,  and  down  to  the 
level   of,  common   citizenship — it   is   this,    I   say. 


BJOR.VSTJEEA'E  BJORA^SOiV  6$ 

whicli  npliolds  her  in  tlie  midst  of  opprobrium,  in- 
sults, and  hostile  demonstrations.  For  the  king's 
subjects,  so  far  from  being  charmed  by  his  resolu- 
tion to  marry  a  woman  out  of  their  midst,  are 
scandalized.  They  riot,  sing  mocking  songs,  cir- 
culate base  slanders,  and  threaten  to  mob  the  royal 
bride  on  her  way  to  her  first  public  function.  She 
is  herself  terribly  wrought  ujd,  particularly  by  the 
curse  of  her  father,  who  hates  the  king  with  the 
deep  hatred  of  a  fanatical  Republican.  A  royal 
princess,  who  had  come  to  insult  her,  is  conquered 
by  her  candor  and  truth,  and  stays  to  sympathize 
with  her  and  lend  her  the  support  of  her  presence. 
But  just  as  the  king  comes  to  lead  her  out  to  face 
the  populace,  the  wraith  of  her  father  rises  upon 
the  threshold  and  she  falls  back  dead.  It  is  learned 
afterward  that  Professor  Ernst  had  died  in  that 
very  hour. 

The  king's  bosom  friend,  the  Minister  of  the  In- 
terior, Gran,  who  is  largely  responsible  for  his 
liberalism,  and  whose  whole  policy  it  has  been  to 
rejuvenate  and  revitalize  the  monarchy,  is  chal- 
lenged and  shot  by  his  old  teacher,  the  Republican 
Flink  ;  and  the  king  himself,  convinced  of  the  fu- 
tility of  all  his  efforts  to  realize  his  idea  of  a  demo- 
cratic monarchy,  commits  suicide. 

As  a  piece  of  sanguinary  satire  on  royalty  as  an 
institution  "  The  King"  is  most  interesting — that 
is,  royalty  logically  and  speculatively  considered, 
without  reference  to  its  historical  basis  and  devel- 
opment. To  me  the  postulate  that  it  had  its  origin 
5 


66  SCA  NDINA  VIAN  LITER  A  TURE 

in  a  kind  of  conspiracy  (for  mutual  benefit)  of  the 
priest  and  tlie  king  seems  shallow  and  unphilo- 
sophical.      Bjornson's  fanatical   partisanship  has 
evidently  carried  him  a  little  too  far.     For  surely 
he  would  himself  admit  that  every  free  nation 
is  governed  about  as  well  as  it  deserves  to  b'^  - 
that  its  political  institutions  are  a  reflectio' 
maturity  and  capacity  for  self  -  govern: 
certain  allowance  must,  indeed,  be   mad'^ 
vis  inerticB  of  whatever  exists,  which   make^   . 
exert  a  stubborn  and  not  unwholesome  resistance 
to  the  reformer's  zeal.     This  conservatisi  "i 

may,  however,  have  more  laudable  mot: '  s  ' 
mere  self-interest)  Bjornson  has  happily  s^' 
in  the  scene  before  the  Noblemen's  Club  in  the 
third  act.  But,  I  fancy,  it  looks  to  him  only  as  a 
sinister  power,  which  for  its  own  base  purposes  has 
smitten  humanity  with  blindness  to  its  own  wel- 
fare. Though  not  intending  to  enter  into  a  discus- 
sion, I  am  also  tempted  to  put  a  respectful  little 
interrogation  mark  after  the  statement  that  the 
republic  is  so  very  much  cheaper  than  the  mon- 
archy. If  the  experience  of  the  two  largest  repub- 
lics in  the  world  counts  for  anything,  I  should  say 
that  in  point  of  economy  there  was  not  much  to 
choose. 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  Bjornson  did  not  in- 
tend "  The  King  "  as  an  argument  in  favor  of  the 
republic.  In  his  preface  to  the  third  edition  he 
distinctly  repudiates  the  idea.  The  recent  devel- 
opment  of  the   Norwegian   people,   has,  he   says. 


BJORNSTJEKNE   BJORXSOiY  6/ 

made  the  republic  a  remoter  possibility  than  it  was 
ten  years  before  (1875).  But  lie  qualifies  this 
statement  with  the  significant  condition,  "If  we 
are  not  checked  by  fraud."  And  I  fancy  that  he 
would  have  a  perfect  right  to  justify  his  present 
position  by  demonstrating  the  fraud,  trickery,  if 
not  treason,  by  which  Norway  has  during  the  last 
decade  been  thwarted  in  her  aspirations  and 
checked  in  her  development.  That  preface,  by 
the  way,  dated  Paris,  October,  1885,  is  one  of  the 
most  forceful  and  luminous  of  his  political  pronun- 
ciamientos.  It  rings  from  beginning  to  end  with 
conviction  and  a  manly  indignation.  His  chief 
purpose,  he  says,  in  writing  this  drama  was,  "  to 
extend  the  boundaries  of  free  discussion."  His 
polemics  against  the  clergy  are  not  attacks  upon 
Christianity,  though  he  contends  that  religion  is 
subject  to  growth  as  well  as  other  things.  The 
ultimate  form  of  government  he  believes  to  be  the 
republic,  on  the  journey  toward  which  all  Euro- 
pean states  are  proceeding  fast,  or  slow,  and  in 
various  stages  of  progress.  There  is  something 
abrupt,  gnarled,  Carlylese,  in  his  urgent  admoni- 
tions and  appeals  for  fair-play.  The  personal  note 
is  so  distinct  that  I  cannot  read  the  play  without 
unconsciously  supplying  the  very  cadence  of  Bjorn- 
son^s  voice. 

A  further  attempt  to  extend  the  boundaries  of 
free  discussion  is  made  in  the  two  dramas,  "■  Leon- 
arda"  (1879)  and  ''A  Glove"  (1883),  which  both 
deal  with  interesting  phases  of  the  woman  question, 


68  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

and  both  wage  war  against  conventional  notions  of 
right  and  wrong.  The  former  elucidates  the  atti- 
tude of  society  toward  the  woman  who  has  been 
compromised  (wliether  justly  or  not),  and  the  latter 
its  attitude  toward  the  man.  I  confess  there  is 
something  a  trifle  hazy  in  his  exposition  of  the 
problem  in  "Leonarda;"  and  I  am  unable  to  de- 
termine whether  Leonarda  really  has  anything  to 
reproach  herself  with  or  not.  In  her  conversation 
with  the  bishop  in  the  second  act,  she  appears  to 
admit  that  she  has  much  to  regret.  She  begs  him 
'Mielp  her  atone  for  her  past."  She  practically 
throws  herself  upon  his  mercy,  reminding  him  that 
his  Master,  Christ,  was  the  friend  of  sinners.  But 
in  the  last  act  she  appears  suddenly  with  the  halo 
of  martyrdom.  General  Eosen,  who  has  been  the 
cause  of  her  social  ostracism,  turns  out  to  be  her 
husband,  whom  she  has  divorced  on  account  of  his 
dissipated  habits,  and  now  keeps,  in  the  hope  of 
saving  him,  on  a  sort  of  probation.  She  believes 
that  without  her  he  would  go  straight  to  perdition, 
and  from  a  sense  of  duty  she  tolerates  him,  not  dar- 
ing to  shirk  her  responsibility  for  the  old  repro- 
bate's soul.  Truth  to  tell,  she  treats  him  like  a 
naughty  boy,  punishing  him,  when  he  has  been 
drunk,  with  a  denial  of  favors  ;  and  when  he  has 
been  good,  rewarding  him  with  her  company.  I 
suppose  there  are  men  who  might  be  saved  by  such 
treatment,  but  I  venture  to  doubt  whether  they 
are  worth  saving.  As  for  Leonarda,  she  has  ap- 
parently no  cause   for   encouragement.     But   she 


BJORXSTJERNE   BJOKNSON'  69 

perseveres,  heedless  of  obloquy,  as  long  as  her  o\vn 
affections  are  disengaged.  Siie  presently  falls  in 
love,  however,  with  a  young  man  named  Ilagbart 
Tallhaug,  who  has  insulted  her  and  is  now  engaged 
to  her  niece,  Agot.  Hagbart  is  the  ne2)hew  of  the 
bishop  of  the  diocese,  who,  after  much  i)ersuasion 
is  induced  to  receive  Agot,  on  condition  that  her 
aunt  will  remove  from  the  district  and  demand  no 
recognition  from  the  family.  Having  been  in- 
formed of  these  conditions,  Leonarda  calls  uj)on 
the  bishop,  uninvited,  and  vainly  remonstrates  with 
him.  The  young  people  are,  however,  unwilling 
to  accept  happiness  on  the  terms  offered  by  his 
reverence.  At  this  point  a  new  complication 
arises.  Hagbart  who  had  loved  in  Agot  a  kind  of 
reflection  of  her  aunt's  character  and  manner,  be- 
ing now  thrown  into  the  company  of  the  latter,  dis- 
covers his  mistake  and  transfers  his  affection  to 
Leonarda.  Exactly  wherein  the  newness  of  Leon- 
arda's  type  consists  we  are  not  fully  informed,  but 
we  are  led  to  infer  that  she  represents  a  purer  and 
truer  humanity  than  the  women  bred  in  the  tra- 
ditions of  feudalism,  with  their  hypocritical  arts 
and  conventions.  She  is  not  meant  to  be  seduc- 
tive, but  radiant,  ravishing. 

There  is  a  candor  in  her  speech,  and  an  almost 
boyish  straightforwardness,  for  which  she  is  not 
indebted  to  nature  but  to  the  stanch  idealism  of 
her  creator.  She  is,  however,  on  that  account  no 
less  impressionable,  no  less  ready  to  respond  to  the 
call  of  love.     She  struggles  manfully  (or  ought  I 


70  SCA  NDINA  VIA  /V  LITER  A  TURE 

notj  in  deference  to  the  author's  contention,  to  say 
*'womanfully")  against  her  love  for  Hagbart,  and 
at  last  has  no  choice  but  to  escape  from  the 
cruel  dilemma  by  accej)ting  the  bishop's  demand. 
Though  she  cannot  conquer  her  affection  for  the 
young  man,  she  believes  that  he  will,  in  the  course 
of  time,  return  to  Agot,  as  soon  as  she  is  out  of  his 
way.  The  author  evidently  believes  the  same.  It 
is  a  hard  lot  to  be  a  man  in  these  later  dramas  of 
Bjornson. 

With  a  slight  violation  of  the  chronological  se- 
quence I  shall  discuss  "■  A  Glove  "  in  this  connec- 
tion, because  of  its  organic  coherence  with  "  Leo- 
narda."  They  are  the  obverse  and  reverse  of  the 
same  subject — the  cruelty  of  society  to  the  woman 
of  a  blemished  reputation,  and  its  leniency  to  the 
man. 

To  those  who  worship  the  conventional  ideal  of 
womanly  innocence  "A  Glove"  will  seem  a  very 
shocking  book,  for  it  fearlessly  discusses,  and,  what 
is  more,  makes  a  young  girl  discuss — the  standards 
of  sexual  purity  as  applied  to  men  and  women. 
The  sentiments  which  she  utters  are,  to  be  sure, 
elevated  and  of  an  almost  Utopian  idealism  ;  and 
the  author  obviously  means  to  raise,  not  to  lower, 
her  in  the  eyes  of  the  reader  by  her  passionate 
frankness. 

The  problem  of  the  drama  is  briefly  this  :  So- 
ciety demands  of  women  an  absolute  chastity,  and 
refuses  to  condone  the  least  lapse,  either  before  or 
after  marriage.     But  toward  men  it  is  indulgent. 


BjORNSTJEKiVE   BJORNSON'  7 1 

It  readily  overlooks  a  plenteous  seed  of  wild  oats, 
and  would  regard  it  as  the  sheerest  Quixotism 
to  judge  the  bridegroom  by  the  same  standard  of 
purity  as  it  does  the  bride.  It  is  easy  enough,  and 
perhaps  also  legitimate,  to  exclaim  with  Bjornson 
that  this  is  all  wrong,  and  that  a  man  has  no 
right  to  ask  any  more  than  he  gives.  As  a  mere 
matter  of  equity  a  wife  owes  her  husband  no  more 
fidelity  than  he  owes  her,  and  may  exact  of  him,  if 
she  chooses,  the  same  prematrimonial  purity  that 
he  exacts  of  her.  But  questions  of  this  kind  are 
never  settled  on  the  basis  of  equity.  The  senti- 
ments by  which  they  are  determined  have  long 
and  intricate  roots  in  the  prehistoric  past ;  and 
we  are  yet  very  far  from  the  millennial  condition  of 
absolute  equality  between  the  sexes.  According  to 
Herbert  Spencer  there  is  a  hereditary  transmission 
of  qualities  which  are  confined  exclusively  to  the 
male,  and  of  others  which  are  confined  to  the  fe- 
male ;  and  these  are  the  results  of  the  primitive  en- 
vironments and  conditions  which  were  peculiar  to 
each  sex.  Even  the  best  of  us  have  a  reminiscent 
sense  of  proprietorship  in  our  wives,  dating  from 
the  time  when  she  was  obtained  by  purchase  or 
capture  and  could  be  disposed  of  like  any  other 
chattel.  Wives,  Avliose  prehistoric  discipline  has 
disposed  them  to  humility  and  submission  (I  am 
speaking  of  the  European,  not  the  American  species, 
of  course),  have  not  yet  in  the  same  degree  acquired 
this  sense  of  ownership  in  their  husbands,  involving 
the  same  strict  accountability  for  affectional  aber- 


72  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

rations.  And  for  this  there  is  a  very  good  reason, 
which  is  no  less  valid  now  than  it  was  in  the 
hoariest  antiquity,  A  husband's  infidelity,  though 
morally  as  reprehensible  as  that  of  the  wife,  does 
not  entail  quite  such  monstrous  consequences.  For 
if  she  deceives  him,  he  may  ignorantly  bring  up 
another  man's  children,  toil  for  them,  bestow  his 
name  and  affection  upon  them,  and  leave  them  his 
property.  One  can  scarcely  conceive  of  a  more 
outrageous  wrong  than  this  ;  and  it  is  in  order  to 
guard  against  such  a  possibility  that  society  from 
remote  ages  has  watched  over  the  chastity  of  wom- 
en far  more  Jealously  than  over  that  of  men.  It 
is  as  a  result  of  this  vigilance  of  centuries  that 
women  have,  among  civilized  nations,  a  finer  sense 
of  modesty  than  men,  and  a  higher  standard  of 
personal  purity.  Men  are,  as  yet,  as  Mr.  Howells 
remarks,  ^'imperfectly  monogamous  ;''  and  Bjorn- 
son  is,  no  doubt,  in  the  main  right  in  the  tremen- 
dous indictment  he  frames  against  them  in  the 
present  drama. 

It  may  be  expedient  to  give  a  brief  outline  of 
the  action.  Svava  Riis,  the  daughter  of  prosper- 
ous and  refined  parents,  becomes  engaged  to  Alf 
Christensen,  the  son  of  a  great  commercial  mag- 
nate. 

Her  father  and  mother  are  overjoyed  at  the 
happy  event ;  she  is  herself  no  less  delighted.  Her 
fiance,  has  an  excellent  reputation,  shares  her  in- 
terest in  social  questions,  and  supports  her  in  her 
efforts  to  found  kindergartens  and  to  ameliorate 


BJUKA^STJERNE   BJORNSON  73 

the  lot  of  tlie  poor.  Each  glories  in  the  exclusive 
possession  of  the  other's  love,  and  with  the  retro- 
spective jealousy  of  lovers,  fancies  that  he  has  had 
no  predecessors  in  the  affection  of  the  beloved. 
Alf  can  scarcely  endure  to  have  any  one  touch 
Svava,  and  is  almost  ill  when  any  one  dances 
with  her. 

''  When  I  see  you  among  all  the  others/'  he  ex- 
claims, "and  catch,  for  instance,  a  glimpse  of  your 
arm,  then  I  think  :  That  arm  has  been  wound 
about  my  neck,  and  about  no  one  else's  in  the 
whole  world.  She  is  mine  !  She  belongs  to  me, 
and  to  no  one,  no  one  else  ! " 

Svava  finds  this  feeling  perfectly  natural,  and 
reciprocates  it.  She  ardently  believes  that  he 
brings  her  as  fresh  a  heart  as  she  brings  him  ;  that 
his  past  is  as  free  from  contaminating  exjierience 
as  is  her  own.  When,  therefore,  she  obtains  proof 
to  the  contrary,  in  an  indignant  revulsion  of  feel- 
ing, she  hurls  her  glove  in  his  face  and  breaks 
the  engagement.  This  act  is,  I  fancy,  intended 
to  be  half  symbolic.  The  young  girl  expresses 
not  only  her  personal  sense  of  outrage  ;  but  she 
flings  a  challenge  in  the  face  of  the  whole  com- 
munity, which  by  its  indulgence  made  his  trans- 
gression easy.  She  discovers  that  what  in  her  would 
have  been  a  crime  is  in  him  a  lapse,  readily  for- 
given. Her  whole  soul  revolts  against  this  in- 
equality of  conditions  ;  and  in  terminating  their 
relation,  which  has  lost  all  its  beauty,  she  wishes  to 
cut  ofE  all  chance  of  its  future  resumption. 


74  SCA  NDINA  VTA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

In  order  to  determine  whether  this  sentiment  of 
passionate  virginity  (which  in  effect  makes  the 
marriage  vow  of  fidelity  retroactive)  is  not,  in  the 
present  condition  of  the  world,  a  trifle  overstrained, 
I  have  submitted  the  question  to  two  refined  wom- 
en for  whom  I  have  a  high  regard.  To  my  sur- 
prise they  both  declared  that  Svava,  whatever  she 
may  have  said  to  the  contrary,  did  not  love  her 
fiance  ;  that  her  sorrow  and  even  her  indignation 
were  just  and  natural  ;  but  that  her  somewhat 
over-conscious  purity — her  virginite  savant e,  as 
Balzac  phrases  it  in  ^'^Modeste  Mignon,"  and  her 
inability  to  give  due  weight  to  ameliorating  cir- 
cumstances were  unwomanly.  I  confess  I  am  not 
without  sympathy  with  this  criticism.  Svava, 
though  she  is  right  in  her  vehement  protest 
against  masculine  immorality,  is  not  charming — 
that  is,  according  to  our  present  notion  of  what 
constitutes  womanly  charm.  It  is  not  unlikely, 
however,  that  like  Leonarda  she  is  meant  to  antici- 
pate a  new  type  of  womanhood,  co-ordinate  and  co- 
equal with  man,  whose  charm  shall  be  of  a  wholly 
different  order.  The  coquetry,  the  sweet  hypocrisy, 
nay,  all  the  frivolous  arts  which  exercise  such  a  po- 
tent sway  over  the  heart  of  man  have  their  roots  in 
the  prehistoric  capture  and  thraldom ;  and  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  woman  suffragists,  are  so  many 
reminiscences  of  degradation.  I  fancy  that  Bjorn- 
son,  sharing  this  view,  has  with  full  deliberation 
made  Svava  boldly  and  inexorably  truthful,  frank 
as  a  boy  and  as  uncompromisingly  honest  as  a  man. 


BJORNST/ERNE  BJORNSON'  75 

She  lias  sufficient  use  for  this  masculine  equip- 
ment (I  am  speaking  in  accordance  with  the  effete 
standards)  in  the  battle  which  is  before  her.  Dr. 
Nordan,  the  family  physician,  her  parents,  and 
those  of  her  _y?awce,  take  her  to  task  and  endeavor  to 
demonstrate  to  her  the  consequences  of  her  unpre- 
cedented demand.  She  learns  in  the  course  of  this 
prolonged  debate  that  she  has  been  living  in  a 
fool's  paradise.  She  has  been  purjDosely  (and  with 
the  most  benevolent  intention)  deceived  in  regard 
to  tliis  question  from  the  very  cradle.  Her  father, 
whom  she  has  believed  to  be  a  model  husband, 
proves  to  have  been  unworthy  of  her  trust.  The 
elder  Christensen  has  also  had  a  compromising  in- 
trigue of  the  same  kind  ;  and  it  becomes  obvious 
that  each  male  creature  is  so  indulgent  in  this 
chapter  toward  every  other  male  creature,  because 
each  knows  himself  to  be  equally  vulnerable. 
There  is  a  sort  of  tacit  freemasonry  among  them, 
which  takes  its  revenge  upon  him  who  tells  tales 
out  of  school.  It  is  a  consciousness  of  this  which 
makes  Christensen,  after  having  declared  war  to 
the  knife  against  the  Riises,  withdraw  his  chal- 
lenge and  become  doubly  cordial  toward  his  en- 
emy. Alf,  who  in  the  second  act  has  expressed 
the  opinion  that  a  man  is  responsible  to  his  wife  for 
his  future,  but  not  for  his  past,  retracts,  and  does 
penance.  Svava,  in  consideration  of  his  penitence, 
gives  him  a  vague  hope  of  future  reconciliation.* 

*  In  the  later  acting  version  of  the  play,  which  ends  with  the 
throwing  of  the  glove,  this  hope  of  reconciliation  is  definitely  cut 


'J  6  SCA  NDTiVA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

It  will  be  observed  by  every  reader  of  "A  Glove  " 
that  it  is  not  a  drama,  according  to  our  American 
notion.  It  has  very  little  dramatic  action.  It 
might  be  styled  a  series  of  brilliant  and  searching 
debates  concerning  a  theme  of  great  moment.  The 
same  definition  applies,  though  in  a  lesser  degree, 
to  "The  New  System''  (1879),  a  five-act  play  of 
great  power  and  beauty.  By  power  I  do  not  mean 
noise,  but  convincing  impressiveness  and  concen- 
tration of  interest.  One  could  scarcely  imagine 
anything  farther  removed  from  the  ha !  and  ho  ! 
style  of  melodrama. 

''  The  New  System  "  is  primarily  social  satire. 
It  is  a  psychological  analysis  of  the  effect  of  the 
*'  small  state  "  upon  its  citizens.  It  is  an  expansion 
and  exemplification  of  the  proposition  (Act  I.,  1) 
that  "while  the  great  states  cannot  subsist  without 
sacrificing  their  small  people  by  the  thousands, 
small  states  cannot  subsist  without  the  sacrifice  of 
many  of  their  great  men,  nay  of  the  very  greatest." 
The  smooth,  crafty  man,  "  who  can  smile  ingrati- 
atingly like  a  woman,"  rises  to  the  higher  heights ; 
while  the  bold,  strong,  cajjable  man,  who  is  unversed 
in  the  arts  of  humility  and  intrigue,  struggles  hope- 
off.  The  author  has  evidently  come  to  the  conclusion  that  his  ar- 
gument is  weakened  by  Svava's  conciliatory  attitude,  and  he  en- 
forces his  moral  by  making  the  sin  appear  unpardonable.  The 
acting  version,  which  is  more  dramatically  concise,  differs  in  sev- 
eral other  respects  from  the  version  here  presented  ;  but  the  other 
changes  seem  to  be  dictated  by  a  stricter  regard  for  the  exigencies 
of  theatrical  representation.  The  play  has  been  translated  into 
English  under  the  title,  "  A  Gauntlet,"  London,  1894. 


BJORNSTJERME  BJORNSON  y/ 

lessly,  and  perhaps  in  the  end  goes  to  the  dogs,  be- 
cause he  is  denied  the  proper  fiehl  for  his  energy. 
Never  has  B  jornson  written  anything  more  convinc- 
ing, i:»enetrating,  subtly  satirical.  He  cuts  deep ; 
every  incision  draws  blood.  A  Norwegian  who 
reads  the  play  cannot  well  rid  himself  of  a  startled 
sense  of  exjiosure  that  is  at  first  wounding  to  his 
patriotism.  It  is  mortifying  to  have  to  admit  that 
tilings  are  thus  in  Norway.  And  the  worst  of  it  is 
that  there  appears  to  be  no  remedy.  The  condition 
is,  accordinr;  to  B jornson,  inherent  in  all  small 
states  which  cripple  the  souls  of  men,  stunt  their 
growth^  and  contract  their  horizon. 

The  first  act  opens  with  a  conversation  between 
the  civil  engineers  Kampe  and  Eavn,  and  the  for- 
mer's son  Hans,  Avho  has  just  returned  from  a  j^ro- 
longed  sojourn  abroad.  The  keynote  is  struck  in 
the  sarcastic  remark  of  Eavn,  that  in  a  small  so- 
ciety only  small  truths  can  be  tolerated — of  the 
kind  that  takes  twenty  to  the  inch  ;  but  great  truths 
are  apt  to  be  explosive  and  should  therefore  be 
avoided,  for  they  might  burst  the  whole  society. 
This  is  a  projjos  of  a  book  which  Hans  Kampe  has 
written,  exposing  the  wastefulness  and  antiquated 
condition  of  the  so-called  ''new  system"  of  railway 
management  introduced,  or  supposed  to  have  been 
introduced,  by  Kampe's  and  Eavn's  brother-in-law, 
the  supervisor-general  Eiis.  The  way  for  Hans  to 
make  a  career,  declares  the  worldly  wise  Eavn,  is  not 
to  oppose  the  source  of  promotion  and  power,  but  to 
be  silent  and  marry  the  supervisor-general's  daugh- 


78  SCANDINAVIAN  LFfERATURE 

ter.  Eavn  lias  learned  this  lesson  by  bitter  expe- 
rience, and  liopes  that  his  nephew  will  profit  by  it. 
All  talk  about  duty  to  the  state  and  society  he  pre- 
tends to  regard  as  pure  moonshine,  and  he  professes 
not  to  see  the  connection  between  the  elder  Kampe's 
drunkenness  and  the  artificial  bottling  up  to  which 
he  has  been  subjected,  the  curbing  and  jailing  of 
Titanic  powers  which  once  sought  outlet  in  signifi- 
cant action.  The  same  mighty  force  Avhich  in  its 
repression  drives  the  men  to  the  brandy  -  bottle 
makes  the  women  intoxicate  themselves  with  ficti- 
tious narratives  of  high  courage,  daring  rescues, 
and  all  kinds  of  melodramatic  heroism.  Extremely 
amusing  is  the  scene  in  which  Karen  Eiis  (who 
loves  Hans  and  is  beloved  by  him)  goes  rowing 
with  her  friends  Nora  and  Lisa,  taking  with  her  a 
stock  of  high-strung  novels,  and  when  a  drowning 
man  cries  to  them  for  help -they  row  away  post- 
haste, because  the  man  is  naked. 

The  second  act  shows  us  the  type  of  the  success- 
ful man  of  compromise,  who  takes  the  world  as  he 
finds  it,  and  cleverly  utilizes  the  foibles  of  his  fel- 
low-men. The  supervisor-general  is  a  sort  of  per- 
sonification of  public  opinion.  He  is  always  cor- 
rect, professes  to  believe  what  others  believe,  and 
conforms  from  prudent  calculation  to  the  relig- 
ious customs  of  the  community.  He  demands  of 
his  son  Frederic  that  he  shall  abandon  a  young 
girl  whom  he  loves  and  has  seduced,  and  he  requires 
of  his  daughter  Karen  that  she  shall,  out  of  regard 
for  her  family,  renounce  her  lover.     He  feigns  all 


BJORNSl^JERNE  BJORNSON  79 

proper  sentiments  and  emotions,  while  under  the 
smooth,  agreeable  mask  lurk  malice  and  cunning. 
When  Hans  Kampe's  book  reaches  him,  it  never 
occurs  to  him  to  examine  it  on  its  merits  ;  his  only- 
thought  is  to  make  it  harmless  by  inventing  a 
scandalous  motive.  The  elder  Kampe  has  just  re- 
signed from  the  railway  service  ;  the  supervisor- 
general  (with  infamous  shrewdness)  demands  an 
official  inquiry  into  the  state  of  his  accounts. 
Then  all  the  world  will  say  that  Hans  Kampe  has 
been  used  as  a  cat's-paw  by  his  father,  who,  know- 
ing that  an  investigation  is  inevitable,  wishes  to 
throw  dust  in  the  eyes  of  the  public  and  save  his 
own  reputation  by  attacking  that  of  his  superior. 
It  is  needless  to  say  that  he  has  not  a  shadow  of 
suspicion  regarding  Kampe's  honesty,  but  merely 
chooses  for  his  own  defence  the  wea2:)on  which  he 
knows  to  be  the  most  effective. 

In  order  to  fortify  his  position  and  sound  the 
sentiment  of  the  profession,  Eiis  gives  a  grand 
dinner  to  the  engineers  of  the  city,  to  which 
Kampe  and  his  son  are  also  invited.  The  chair- 
man of  the  committee  on  railways  (of  the  national 
diet)  is  present,  and  when  it  appears  that  Hans 
Kampe  makes  a  favorable  impression  upon  him,  the 
friends  of  Eiis  concoct  a  scheme  to  injure  him. 
They  inform  his  father  that  he  is  suspected  of  em- 
bezzlement, and  get  him  drunk,  whereupon  the 
old  man  scandalizes  the  company  by  a  burst  of  un- 
complimentary candor.  When  Hans  arrives  the 
mischief  is  done ;  though  the  pathetic  scene  be- 


8o  SCANDIiYAVIAN  LITERATURE 

tween  father  and  son  convinces  tlie  chairman  that, 
whatever  their  failings,  these  men  are  true  and 
genuine.  Simply  delicious  is  the  satire  in  the  scene 
where  the  ladies  discuss  the  question  at  issue  be- 
tween Eiis  and  Kampe.  But  this  satire  is  deprived 
of  much  of  its  force  by  the  subsequent  develoj)ment 
of  the  plot.  The  logical  ending  would  seem  to  be 
the  triumph  of  the  supervisor-general's  defensive 
tactics  and  the  discomfiture  of  his  critics.  That 
would  have  given  point  to  the  criticism  of  the 
small  state  and  invested  the  victims  of  progress 
with  an  almost  tragic  dignity.  Bjornson  chooses, 
however,  to  let  neither  the  one  party  nor  the 
other  triumph.  In  a  small  state,  he  says,  no 
one  is  victorious  ;  everything  ends  in  compromise. 
If  two  parties  championed  two  different  plans  of 
railway  construction,  the  one  of  which  was  demon- 
strated to  be  superior  in  economy  and  safety  to 
the  other,  such  a  demonstration  would  not  be 
likely  to  result  in  its  adoption.  No,  the  two 
parties  would  come  together,  dicker  and  com- 
promise, and  in  the  end  the  diet  would  agree  to 
build  one  road  according  to  the  one  plan,  and  one 
according  to  the  other.  Agreeably  to  this  prin- 
ciple Bjornson  leaves  the  honors  between  the  com- 
batants about  easy ;  but  Eiis,  deserted  by  his  chil- 
dren, undergoes  a  partial  change  of  heart  and  is 
seized  with  doubt  as  to  the  excellence  of  his  phi- 
losophy of  life. 

That  the  satire  of  "  The  New  System  "  struck 
home  is  obvious  from  the  fierceness  and  virulence 


BJORXSTJERNE  BJORNSON  8 1 

of  the  criticism  Avith  which  it  Avas  hailed.  It  has 
never  become  fairly  domesticated  on  the  Scandina- 
vian stages,  and  probably  never  will  be.  In  Ger- 
many, France,  and  Holland  it  has  received  respect- 
ful attention,  and  (I  am  informed)  has  proved  ex- 
tremely effective  upon  the  boards. 

In  tlie  same  year  as  "  The  New  System  "  (1879) 
appeared  the  delightful  novelette  ''  Captain  Man- 
sana,"  dealing  with  Italian  life,  and  throwing  in- 
teresting side-lights  upon  the  War  of  Liberation. 
There  is  an  irresistible  charm  in  the  freshness,  the 
vividness,  the  extreme  modernuess  of  this  little 
tale.  The  mingled  simplicity  and  sophistication 
of  the  Italian  character,  the  histrionic  touch  which 
yet  goes  with  perfect  sincerity,  the  author  has  ap- 
prehended and  presented  with  happy  realism. 

In  "Beyond  their  Strength"  {Over  Aevne) 
(1883)  Bjornson  has  invaded  the  twilight  realm 
of  j)sycho-pathological  phenomena,  and  refers  the 
reader  for  further  information  to  LeQons  sur  le  sys- 
tem e  nerveux,  faites  par  J.  M.  Charcot,  and  Etudes 
cliniqves  sur  Vhystero-cpilej)sie  ou  grande  hysterie, 
par  le  Dr.  Richer.  As  a  man  is  ahvays  in  danger 
of  talking  nonsense  in  dealing  with  a  subject  con- 
cerning which  his  knoAvledge  is  superficial,  I  shall 
not  undertake  to  pronounce  upon  the  validity  of 
the  theory  which  is  here  advanced.  The  play  is 
an  inquiry  into  the  significance  and  authenticity 
of  miracles.  Incidentally  the  theme  is  faith-heal- 
ing, the  hypnotic  effect  of  prayer,  and  kindred 
phenomena. 
6 


82  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

Pastor  Sang,  a  clergyman  in  a  remote  parish  of 
Northern  Norway,  is  famed  far  and  wide  as  the 
miracle-priest,  and  it  is  popularly  believed  that  he 
can  work  wonders,  as  the  apostles  did  of  old.  He 
has  given  away  his  large  fortune  to  the  poor  ;  in  a 
fervor  of  faith  he  plunges  into  every  danger,  and 
comes  out  unscathed  ;  he  lives  constantly  in  an 
overstrained  ecstasy,  and  by  his  mere  presence,  and 
the  atmosphere  which  surrounds  him,  forces  his 
wife  and  children  to  live  in  the  same  state  of  high 
nervous  tension  and  unnatural  abstraction  from 
mundane  reality  and  all  its  concerns.  His  wife, 
Clara,  who  loves  him  ardently,  is  gradually  worn 
out  by  this  perpetual  strain,  which  involves  a  daily 
overdraft  upon  her  vitality  ;  and  finally  the  break 
comes,  and  she  is  paralyzed.  For,  like  everyone 
who  comes  in  contact  with  Sang,  she  has  had  to 
live  "beyond  her  strength."  She  does  not  fully 
share  her  husband's  faith,  and  though  she  feels  his 
influence  and  admires  his  lofty  devotion,  there  is  a 
half-suppressed  criticism  in  her  mind.  She  feels 
the  unwholesomeness  of  thus  "living  by  inspira- 
tion, and  not  by  reason."  When  he  comes  to  her, 
"  beaming  always  with  a  Sabbath  joy,"  she  would 
fain  tune  him  down,  if  she  could,  into  a  lower  key, 
"the  C-major  of  every-day  life," as  Browning  calls 
it.  But  in  this  effort  she  has  had  no  success,  for 
Sang's  ecstatic  elevation  above  the  concerns  of 
earth  is  not  only  temperamental ;  nature  itself,  in 
the  extreme  North,  favors  it.  As  Clara  expresses 
it: 


BJORNSTJERNE  BJOKNSON  83 

"  Nature  here  exceeds  the  limits  of  the  ordinary. 
We  have  night  nearly  all  winter  ;  we  have  day 
nearly  all  summer — and  then  the  sun  is  above  the 
horizon,  both  day  and  night.  Have  you  seen  it  in 
the  night  ?  Do  you  know  that  behind  the  ocean 
vapors  it  often  looks  three  or  four  times  as  large  as 
usual  ?  And  then  the  color-effects  upon  sky,  sea, 
and  mountain!  From  the  deej^est  glow  of  red  to 
the  finest,  tenderest,  golden  white.  And  the  colors 
of  the  aurora  upon  the  wintry  sky  ! "  etc. 

It  is  the  most  ardent  desire  of  Sang  to  heal  his 
wife,  as  he  has  healed  many  others.  But  the 
doubt  in  her  mind  baffles  him,  and  for  a  long  time 
he  is  unsuccessful.  At  last,  however,  he  resolves 
to  make  a  mighty  effort — to  besiege  the  Lord  with 
his  prayer,  to  wrestle  with  him,  as  Jacob  did  of 
old,  and  not  to  release  him,  until  he  has  granted 
his  petition.  While  he  lies  thus  before  the  altar 
calling  upon  the  Lord  in  sacred  rapture,  a  tre- 
mendous avalanche  sweeps  down  the  mountain- 
side, but  divides,  leaving  the  church  and  parsonage 
unharmed.  The  rumor  of  this  new  wonder  spreads 
like  fire  in  withered  grass,  and  among  thousands 
of  others  a  number  of  clergymen,  with  their  bishop, 
on  their  way  to  some  convention,  stop  to  convince 
themselves  of  the  autlienticity  of  the  miracle,  and 
to  determine  the  attitude  which  they  are  to  assume 
toward  it.  Then  follows  a  long  discussion  between 
the  bishop  and  the  clergy  regarding  the  value  of 
miracles,  some  maintaining  that  the  church  has 
outgrown  the  need  of  them,  others  that  they  are 


84      SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

indispensable  —  that  Christianity  cannot  survive 
without  them.  For  has  not  Christ  promised  that 
"  even  greater  things  than  these  shall  ye  do  ?"  Is 
not  this  a  case  of  the  faith  which  verily  can  say  to 
the  mountain,  "  Rise  up  and  cast  thyself  into  the 
sea  ?  " 

The  other  miracle,  scarcely  less  marvellous  than 
the  deflection  of  the  avalanche,  is  that  Clara,  who 
has  slept  for  the  first  time  in  a  month,  now  rises 
from  her  bed  and  goes  forth  to  meet  her  husband, 
and  falls  upon  his  neck  amid  the  ringing  of  the 
church-bells  and  tlie  hallelujahs  of  the  assembled 
multitudes.  But  when  he  tries  to  raise  her  she  is 
dead,  and  he  himself,  overwhelmed  by  his  emotion, 
falls  dead  at  her  side. 

This  is  so  obviously  a  closet-drama  that  it  is  dif- 
ficult to  imagine  how  it  would  look  under  the  illu- 
mination of  the  foot-lights.  For  all  that,  I  see  a 
recent  announcement  that  the  trial  is  soon  to  be 
made  at  the  TMdtre  Libre  in  Paris.  *  No  Scandi- 
navian theatre,  as  far  as  I  know,  has  as  yet  had  the 
courage  to  risk  the  experiment.  In  his  next  play, 
however,  "Love  and  Geography"  (1885),  Bjornson 
reconquered  the  stage  and  repeated  his  early  tri- 
umphs. From  the  scientific  seriousness  of  "Beyond 
their  Strength  "  his  pendulum  swung  to  the  oppo- 
site extreme  of  light  comedy,  almost  bordering  on 
farce.  Not  that  "Love  and  Geography"  is  with- 
out a  Bjorusonian  moral,  but  it  is  amusingly, 
jocosely  enforced  in  scenes  of  great  vivacity  and 

*  July,  1894. 


BJOKNSTJERNE  BJOKNSON  85 

theatrical  effect.  This  time  it  is  himself  the 
author  has  chosen  to  satirize.  The  unconscious 
tyranny  of  a  man  who  has  a  mission,  a  life-work, 
is  delightfully  illustrated  in  the  person  of  the 
geographer,  Professor  Tygesen,  to  whom  Bjorn 
Bjornson,  the  actor,  when  he  played  the  part  at  the 
Christiania  Theatre,  had  the  boldness  to  give  his 
father's  mask.  Professor  Tygesen  is  engaged  upon 
a  great  geographical  opus,  and  gradually  takes  pos- 
session of  the  whole  house  with  his  maps,  globes, 
and  books,  driving  his  wife  from  the  parlor  floor 
and  his  daughter  to  boarding-school.  So  absorbed 
is  he  in  his  work  that  he  can  talk  and  think  of 
nothing  else.  He  neglects  the  social  forms  from 
sheer  abstraction  and  becomes  almost  a  boor,  be- 
cause all  the  world  outside  of  his  book  pales  into 
insignificance,  and  all  persons  and  events  are  merely 
interesting  in  so  far  as  they  can  stimulate  inquiry 
or  furnish  information  bearing  upon  the  immortal 
opus.  The  inevitable  consequence  follows.  The 
professor  alienates  all  who  come  in  contact  with 
him.  He  is  on  the  point  of  losing  the  affection  of 
his  wife,  and  his  daughter  comes  near  going  astray 
for  want  of  paternal  supervision.  Both  these  ca- 
lamities are,  however,  averted,  though  in  an  arbi- 
trary and  highly  eccentric  manner.  The  pro- 
fessor's eyes  are  opened  to  the  error  of  his  ways, 
he  does  penance,  and  the  curtain  falls  upon  a  re- 
united family. 

The  unpretentious  little  story   '^'Dust"    {Stuv, 
1882)  undertakes  to  demonstrate  the  unwholesome- 


86  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LIT  ERA  TURE 

iiess  of  the  religious  ideas  regarding  the  life  to 
come  usually  impressed  upon  children  by  parents 
and  teachers.  By  dust  Bjornson  means  all  obso- 
lete, lifeless  matter  in  the  world  of  thought  which 
settles  upon,  and  often  impairs,  the  vitality  of  the 
living  growth,  or  even  chokes  it  outright.  "When 
children  are  taught  that  the  life  here  is  nothing 
compared  to  the  life  to  come — that  to  be  visible  is 
nothing  compared  to  being  invisible — that  to  be  a 
man  is  nothing  comj)ared  to  being  an  angel — that  to 
be  alive  is  nothing  compared  to  being  dead — then 
that  is  not  the  way  to  give  them  the  right  view 
of  life  ;  not  the  way  to  teach  them  to  love  life  ; 
not  the  way  to  inspire  them  with  courage^,  energy, 
and  patriotism." 

In  his  novel  "  Flags  in  City  and  Harbor  "  (1884), 
the  English  translation  of  which  is  entitled  "  The 
Heritage  of  the  Kurts,"  Bjornson  has  attacked  a 
tremendous  problem.  He  has  attempted  to  illus- 
trate the  force  of  heredity,  and  the  exact  extent 
to  which  it  may  be  modified  by  environment — to 
what  extent  an  unfavorable  heredity  may  be  coun- 
teracted by  a  favorable  environment.  The  family 
of  Kurt,  whose  history  is  here  traced  through  five 
generations,  inherits  a  temperament  which  would 
have  secured  its  survival  and  raised  it  to  distinc- 
tion in  barbaric  ages,  but  which  will  as  surely,  un- 
less powerfully  modified,  necessitate  its  extinction 
in  the  present  age.  For  the  Kurts  are  incapable 
of  assimilating  civilization.  An  excess  of  physical 
vigor  in  the  first  Kurt  who  settled  in  Norway  takes 


BJORNSTJERNE  BJORNSON  8/ 

the  form  of  lawlessness  auci  an  entire  absence  of 
moral  restraint. 

Violence  of  the  most  atrocious  kind  goes  unpun- 
ished because  Kurt  is  powerful  and  has  friends  at 
court.  In  his  two  legitimate  sons,  Adler  and  Max 
(he  has  a  host  of  illegitimate  ones),  the  family 
temperament  is  modified,  though  in  Max,  who  per- 
petuates the  race,  the  modification  is  not  radical. 
Adler  is  a  weakling  of  enormous  vanity,  silent  and 
moody,  and  addicted  to  the  pleasures  of  the  table. 
Max,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  man  of  inexhaustible 
vitality,  violent  like  his  father,  but  possessed  of  a 
gift  of  speech  and  a  tremendous  voice  which  serve 
to  establish  his  authority  over  the  simple  inhabi- 
tants of  the  little  coast  town.  Moreover,  he  is 
endowed  with  great  shrewdness  and  practical  sense, 
and  is  an  expert  in  ship-building,  agriculture,  and 
other  pursuits.  But  he  is  the  terror  of  women, 
and  his  sensual  excesses  so  undermine  his  strength 
that  he  becomes  insane,  and  believes  that  he  is  con- 
tinually pursued  by  the  spirit  of  his  brother,  whose 
death  he  had  caused.  Konrad  Kurt,  the  son  of 
Max,  runs  away  from  home  because  he  cannot  en- 
dure to  see  his  mother  maltreated  by  his  father. 
He  inherits  a  shattered  constitution  and  poor 
nerves  ;  outwardly  he  is  quite  a  respectable  man, 
but  he  has  a  strong  physical  need  of  drink,  and 
every  night  he  goes  to  bed  intoxicated.  It  is  the 
author's  purpose  to  show  how  the  sins  of  his  fath- 
ers, by  a  physiological  necessity,  predisposed  Kon- 
rad Kurt  to  drink.     His  son,  John  Kurt,  who  is 


88  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

the  result  of  a  criminal  relation,  is  tlie  complete 
incarnation  of  the  genius  of  the  family.  The  fresh 
blood  which  he  has  derived  from  his  English 
mother  has  postponed  the  doom  of  the  race  and 
enabled  him  to  repeat,  in  a  modified  form,  the  ex- 
cesses of  his  ancestors.  He  first  distinguishes  him- 
self as  a  virtuoso  in  swearing.  The  magnificent 
redundance  and  originality  of  his  oaths  make  him 
famous  in  the  army,  which  he  chooses  as  the  first 
field  of  his  exploits.  Later  he  roams  aimlessly 
about  the  world,  merely  to  satisfy  a  wild  need  of 
adventure.  On  his  return  to  his  native  town  he 
signalizes  himself  by  his  vices  as  a  genuine  Kurt. 
The  little  town,  however,  cannot  find  it  in  its  heart 
to  condemn  a  man  of  so  distinguished  a  race,  and 
society,  though  it  is  fully  cognizant  of  his  mode  of 
life,  not  only  tolerates  but  even  pets  him.  He  is 
entertaining,  has  been  everywhere  and  seen  every- 
thing. He  meets  a  young  girl,  named  Thomasine 
Eendalen,  the  daughter  of  an  educated  peasant, 
who  occupies  a  position  as  a  teacher.  She  is  large, 
ruddy,  full  of  health  and  uncorruj)ted  vigor.  John 
Kurt  takes  a  violent  fancy  to  her,  and  moves 
heaven  and  earth  to  induce  her  to  marry  him.  He 
goes  even  to  the  length  of  bribing  all  her  female 
friends,  and  they  by  degrees  begin  to  sing  his 
praises.  At  last  she  yields  ;  a  net  of  subtle  influ- 
ences surrounds  her,  and  unconsciously  she  comes 
to  reflect  the  view  of  society.  Her  moral  prudery 
begins  to  ajipear  ridiculous  to  her,  and  the  so- 
called  common-sense  view  predominates.     The  au- 


BJORNSTJERNE  BJORNSOiV  89 

thor  here,  with  great  earnestness,  emphasizes  the 
responsibility  of  society  in  weakening  the  moral 
resistance  of  the  individual  rather  than  strengthen- 
ing it.  Thomasine  Eendalen  would  not  have  mar- 
ried John  Kurt  if  society  had  not  condoned  his 
offences  ;  and  society  in  condoning  such  offences 
undermines  its  own  foundations. 

After  his  marriage  Kurt  endeavors  to  hold  his 
exuberant  nature  in  check,  and  for  a  while  is  mod- 
erately successful.  But  an  uneasy  suspicion  haunts 
him  that  his  wife's  friends,  in  a  confidential  mo- 
ment, may  expose  his  delinquencies,  and  destroy 
her  confidence  in  him.  He  watches  her  like  a 
lynx,  surprises  her  at  all  hours  and  places,  and 
thereby  produces  the  suspicion  which  he  is  endeav- 
oring to  avert.  The  relation  develops  with  inevit- 
able logic  toward  an  awful  crisis.  This  is  brought 
about  by  a  mere  trifle.  John  Kurt,  failing  to 
humble  his  wife,  strikes  her.  The  baleful  forces 
that  lurk  in  the  depths  of  the  Kurt  temperament 
rise  to  the  surface  ;  the  whole  terrible  heritage  of 
savagery  overwhelms  the  feeble  civilization  which 
the  last  scion  has  acquired.  If  Thomasine  had 
been  weak,  she  would  have  been  killed ;  but  she 
defends  herself  with  fierce  persistency,  and  though 
it  seems  as  if  she  must  succumb,  her  compact 
frame,  strengthened  by  generations  of  healthful 
toil,  possesses  an  endurance  which  in  the  end  must 
prevail  over  the  paroxysmal  rage  of  John  Kurt. 
When  the  combatants  part  there  is  not  a  whole 
piece  of  furniture  in  the  room.     John  Kurt  retires 


90  SCA  NDINA  J  VA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

a  conquered  man.  But  with  cowardly  viciousness 
he  locks  the  door  and  leaves  his  wife  for  hours  de- 
spairing, while  he  himself  goes  to  a  dinner-party. 
There  he  is  stricken  down  by  apoplexy. 

The  terror  with  which  Tliomasine  contemplates 
her  approaching  maternity  is  one  of  the  finest 
points  in  the  book.  Has  she  the  right  to  perpetu- 
ate such  a  race,  which  will  be  a  curse  to  itself  and 
to  future  generations  ?  Would  she  not  confer  a 
boon  upon  mankind  if,  by  destroying  herself,  she 
sweetened  the  life-blood  of  humanity  ?  For  by 
self-destruction  she  would  forever  cut  off  the  tur- 
bid current  of  the  Kurt  blood  which  had  darkened 
the  vital  stream  of  the  race  for  centuries.  The 
moral  exaltation  which  manifests  itself  in  this 
struggle  is  most  vividly  portrayed.  She  clings  to 
life  desperately  ;  she  is  young  and  strong,  unsenti- 
mental, and  averse  to  ascetic  enthusiasm.  It  final- 
ly occurs  to  her  that  her  own  race,  too,  will  as- 
sert itself  in  this  child  ;  that  the  pure  and  vigorous 
strain  which  her  own  blood  will  infuse  may  redeem 
it  from  the  dark  destiny  of  the  Kurts.  She  finally 
resolves  upon  a  compromise  ;  if  the  child  is  dark, 
like  the  Kurts,  both  it  and  its  mother  shall  die. 
If  it  is  blue-eyed  and  light-haired,  like  the  Renda- 
lens,  she  will  devote  her  life  to  obliterating  in  it,  or 
transforming  into  useful  activities,  the  destructive 
vigor  of  the  paternal  character.  Thomas,  when  he 
is  born,  chooses  a  golden  mean  between  these  two 
extremes,  and  perversely  makes  his  appearance  as 
a  red-haired,  gray -eyed  infant,  in  which  both  a 


BJORMSTJERiVE   ByOAWSOAT  9 1 

Kurt  and  a  Kendalen  might  have  made  comforting 
observations.  He  is  accordingly  permitted  to  live, 
and  to  become  the  hero  of  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able novels  which  has  ever  been  published  in  Scan- 
dinavia. 

He  is  by  no  means  a  good  boy,  but  his  mother, 
by  a  kind  of  heroic  conscientiousness  and  rational- 
ity, slowly  conquers  him  and  secures  his  attach- 
ment. She  has  solemnly  abjured  her  connection 
with  her  husband's  family,  assumed  her  maiden 
name,  and  has  consecrated  her  life  to  what  she  re- 
gards as  the  highest  utility — the  work  of  education. 
She  wishes  to  atone  to  the  race  for  her  guilt  in 
having  perpetuated  the  race  of  the  Kurts.  The 
scene  in  which  she  makes  a  bonfire  of  all  the  an- 
cestral portraits  in  the  Hall  of  Knights,  and  the 
smell  of  all  the  burning  Kurts  is  blown  far  and 
wide  over  city  and  harbor,  would,  in  the  hands  of 
another  novelist,  have  been  made  the  central  scene 
in  the  book.  But  Bjornson  is  so  tremendously  in 
earnest  that  he  cannot  afford  to  stop  and  note  pic- 
turesque effect.  Therefore  he  relates  the  burning 
of  the  Kurts  quite  incidentally,  and  proceeds  at 
once  to  talk  of  more  serious  things. 

By  turning  the  great,  dusky,  ancestral  mansion 
into  a  school,  Mrs.  Rendalen  believes  that  she  can 
best  settle  the  account  of  the  Kurts  with  human- 
ity. All  the  latest,  improved  methods  of  educa- 
tion are  introduced.  The  Hall  of  Knights  is 
turned  into  a  chemical  laboratory,  and  the  daylight 
is  allowed  to  pour  unobscured  into  all  its  murky 


92  SCANDINAVIAAT  LITERATURE 

recesses.  Through  the  dim  and  lofty  passage-ways 
resounds  the  laughter  of  children  ;  on  the  scenes 
of  so  many  hoary  crimes  the  prattle  of  innocent 
girls  is  heard  ;  a  multitude  of  scientific  instru- 
ments labor  to  demonstrate  the  laws  of  nature,  and 
to  simplify  the  problem  of  existence  which  the 
crimes  of  the  Kurts  had  tended  to  complicate. 
Thomas  Eendalen,  profoundly  impressed  as  he  is 
with  his  responsibility  as  the  last  descendant  of 
such  a  race,  takes  up  this  educational  mission  with 
a  lofty  humanitarian  enthusiasm.  He  has  spent 
many  years  abroad  in  preparing  himself  for  this 
work,  and  possesses,  like  his  great-grandfather,  the 
gift  of  lucid  exposition.  But  his  perpetual  and 
conscious  struggle  with  his  heritage  makes  him 
nervous  and  ill-balanced.  He  conceives  the  idea, 
fostered  both  by  observation  and  by  the  study  of 
his  own  family  history,  that  unchastity  is  the  chief 
curse  of  humanity,  and  the  primal  cause  of  the  de- 
generacy of  races.  He  believes  that  the  false  mod- 
esty which  leaves  young  people  in  ignorance  of  one 
of  the  most  important  natural  functions  is  largely 
responsible  for  the  j)i'evailing  immorality,  and  he 
advocates,  as  a  remedy,  fearless  and  searching  phy- 
siological study.  His  inaugural  address  as  superin- 
tendent of  the  school  deals  uncompromisingly  with 
this  subject,  and  excites  such  universal  indignation 
that  it  comes  near  wrecking  the  j^romising  enter- 
prise. A  great  speech  in  a  small  town,  Bjornson 
hints,  is  always  more  or  less  risky.  But  Ave  are 
also  given  to  understand  that  though  Eendalen  ob- 


BJORNSrjERNE  BJORNSON  93 

viously  speaks  out  of  tlie  autlior's  heart,  this  very 
speech  is  in  itself  a  subtle  mauifestation  of  the 
Kurt  heritage.  Rendaleu  is  as  immoderate  in  vir- 
tue as  his  ancestors  have  been  in  vice.  The  vio- 
lent energy  which  formerly  expended  itself  in  law- 
less acts  now  expends  itself  in  an  excessive,  ascetic 
enthusiasm  for  self-conquest  and  lofty  humanita- 
rian ideals.  As  a  piece  of  psychology  this  is  ad- 
mirable. Prudent,  well  adapted  or  adaj)table  to 
the  civilization  in  which  he  lives,  the  scion  of  the 
Kurts  is  not  yet ;  but  as  a  promise  of  the  redemp- 
tion of  the  race  he  represents  the  first  upward 
step.  It  is  highly  characteristic  of  Bjornson's  re- 
spect for  reality  that  he  makes  Rendalen  neither 
agreeable,  handsome,  nor  lovable ;  nay,  he  dwells 
again  and  again  on  the  bad  relations  which  tempo- 
rarily exist  between  him  and  his  mother,  between 
him  and  the  teachers,  between  him  and  the  town. 
For  all  that  we  are  filled  with  a  profound  respect 
for  a  man  who  can  fight  in  himself  so  great  a 
fight,  and  win  so  great  a  victory.  It  is  the  sturdy 
peasant  blood  which  he  derived  from  his  mother 
that  enables  him  to  wrestle  thus  mightily  with  the 
Lord,  and  extort  at  last  the  tardy  blessing  ;  for  we 
are  assured  in  the  last  pages  of  the  book  that  he 
makes  a  marriage,  which  is  a  further  step  toward 
health  and  virtue.  We  are  not  assured  that  he 
conquers  happiness  either  for  himself  or  for  his 
wife ;  and  there  is  not  a  syllable  to  betray  that  he 
cherishes  for  her  any  romantic  attachment.  But 
the  chances  are  that,  in  transforming  and  ennobling 


94      SCA  NDINA  VIA  N'  LITER  A  TURE 

the  Kurt  heritage,  he  insures  vigor  and  usefulness 
to  his  descendants.  He  bequeathes  to  them  a  more 
wholesome  mixture  of  blood  than  he  himself  pos- 
sesses, and  an  energy,  nay,  perhaps  a  genius,  de- 
rived from  the  Kurts,  which,  with  an  upward  in- 
stead of  a  downward  tendency,  may  be  a  redeem- 
ing force  in  society  instead  of  a  corrupting  one. 

In  order  not  to  miss  any  phase  of  his  problem, 
Bjoruson  also  takes  up  briefly  the  illegitimate  line 
of  the  Kurts,  which,  being  unsupplied  with  any 
favorable  environment,  sinks  deeper  and  deeper 
into  the  mire  of  vice.  The  inevitable  result  is  in- 
sanity and  ultimate  extinction.  Mrs.  Rendalen's 
visit  to  the  slums,  and  her  recognition  of  the  pe- 
culiar scream  of  her  own  son  in  a  terrible  little 
ragamuffin,  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  inci- 
dents in  this  remarkable  book. 

One  thing  that  especially  strikes  the  reader  in 
this  novel  is  the  author's  fierce  indignation  against 
all  shams,  deceits,  and  social  lies.  Therefore  he 
calls  a  spade  a  spade,  and  leaves  you  to  blush  if 
you  are  so  inclined.  The  young  girls  whom  he 
introduces  are  mostly  misses  in  their  teens,  and 
his  portrayal  of  them  is  physiological  rather  than 
pictorial.  The  points  which  he  selects  for  com- 
ment are  those  which  would  particularly  be  noted 
by  their  medical  advisers  ;  and  the  progress  of 
their  histories,  as  he  follows  them,  is  charac- 
terized by  this  same  scientific  minuteness  of  ob- 
servation. Zola's  ideal  of  scientific  realism  (which 
Bjornson  has  repudiated)  has  nevertheless  found 


BJORNSTJERNE  BJORiYSOJV  95 

its  most  brilliant  exponent  in  him.  Here  the  sor- 
did and  cruel  facts  of  life  are  not  dwelt  upon  by 
preference ;  nor  are  they  optimistically  glossed 
over,  I  donbt  if  a  great  and  vital  problem  has 
ever  been  more  vigorously,  unflinchingly,  and 
convincingly  treated  in  a  work  of  fiction. 

"  Paa  Gilds  Veje"  {"In  the  Ways  of  God^')> 
(1889),  in  which  Thomas  Keudalen  again  figures, 
though  not  as  hero,  is  another  indictment  of  con- 
ventional morality.  It  is  a  very  powerful  but 
scarcely  an  agreeable  book.  The  abrupt,  laconic 
style  has  no  flux,  no  continuity,  and  gives  the 
reader  the  sensation  of  being  pulled  up  sharply 
with  a  curb  bit,  whenever  he  fancies  that  he  has 
a  free  rein.  Though  every  page  is  crowded  with 
trenchant  and  often  admirable  observations,  they 
have  not  the  coherence  of  an  organic  structure, 
but  rather  that  of  a  mosaic.  The  design  is  obvious, 
striking,  and  impressive.  It  is  neither  distorted 
nor  overdrawn.  It  is  unquestionably  thus  v>^e 
treat  moral  non-conformists,  even  though  it  be  in 
pure  self-preservation  that  they  broke  the  bond 
which  we  are  agreed  to  enforce.  The  question 
resolves  itself  into  this  :  Has  society,  in  its  effort 
to  uphold  its  moral  standards,  the  right  to  exact 
the  sacrifice  of  life  itself  and  every  hope  of  happi- 
ness from  the  Aactims  of  its  own  ignorance  and 
injustice  ?  When  the  young  physician,  Edward 
Kallem,  rescues  the  eighteen-year  old  Eagni  Kule 
from  the  degradation  of  her  marriage  to  a  husband 
afflicted  with  a  most  loathsome  disease,  and  after- 


96      SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURK 

ward  marries  her — does  lie  deserve  censure  or  praise? 
Bjoriison's  answer  is  unmistakable.  It  is  exactly 
the  situation,  depicted  five  years  later,  by  Madame 
Sarah  Grand  in  the  relation  of  Edith  to  the  young 
rake,  Sir  Moseley  Menteith.  Only,  Bjornson  res- 
cues the  victim,  while  the  author  of  ''  The  Heav- 
enly Twins  "  makes  her  perish.  In  both  instances 
it  is  the  pious  ignorance  of  clerical  parents  which 
precipitates  the  tragedy.  Ragni's  deliverance  is, 
however,  only  an  apparent  one.  Society,  which 
without  indignation  had  witnessed  her  sale  to  the 
corrupt  old  libertine,  is  frightfully  shocked  by  her 
marriage  to  Dr.  Kallem,  and  manifests  its  disap- 
proval with  an  emphasis  which  takes  no  account 
of  ameliorating  circumstances.  The  sanguinary 
ingenuity  in  the  constant  slights  and  stabs  to  which 
she  is  exposed  makes  her  life  a  martyrdom  and 
finally  kills  her.  "  Contempt  will  pierce  the  ar- 
mor of  a  tortoise,"  says  an  oriental  proverb  ;  and 
poor  Ragni  had  no  chelonian  armor.  When  her 
most  harmless  remarks  are  misinterpreted  and 
her  most  generous  acts  become  weapons  where- 
with to  slay  her,  she  loses  all  heart  for  resistance, 
and  merely  lies  down  to  die.  Very  subtile  and 
beautiful  is  the  manner  in  which  Bjornson  in- 
dicates the  interaction  of  jDsychical  and  physical 
conditions.  The  "soul-frost"  which  chills  the 
very  marrow  of  her  bones  is  so  vividly  conveyed 
that  you  shiver  sympathetically.  The  self-right- 
eous and  brutally  censorious  attitude  of 'the  com- 
munity lowers  the   temperature    and  makes  the 


BJORNSTJERXE  BJORiVSON  97 

atmospliere  deadly.  Aud  the  fact  that  it  is  Kag- 
ni's  unsuspicious  innocence^  and  even  her  love 
of  her  husband,  which  expose  her  to  this  con- 
demnation is  made  plain  with  much  delicate  art. 
Her  residence  of  five  years  in  the  United  States 
after  her  divorce,  and  before  her  second  marriage, 
had,  no  doubt,  accustomed  her  to  a  greater  freedom 
of  intercourse  between  man  and  woman,  and  there- 
by disposed  her  to  trip  rather  lightly  over  the 
stumbling-blocks  of  prudence. 

The  history  of  Kallem's  sister,  Josephine,  and  her 
husband,  the  Eeverend  Ole  Tuft,  which  is  closely 
interwoven  with  the  above,  furnishes  us  with  two 
more  characters  deejjly  felt  and  strongly  realized. 
It  is  they  who  are  the  chief  instruments  of  Kagni's 
martyrdom.  As  the  upholders  of  social  purity, 
and,  as  it  were,  professional  guardians  of  morals,  it 
would  seem  that  Tuft  and  his  wife  had  scarcely  any 
choice  but  to  condemn  marriage  with  a  divorcee. 
When,  however,  after  Eagni's  death,  they  discover 
whom  they  have  slain — how  much  purer,  nobler, 
and  of  more  delicate  nature  she  was  than  either  of 
them — they  are  dissolved  in  shame  aud  remorse.  A 
tremendous  crisis  in  their  spiritual  lives  is  j)ro- 
duced  by  the  mortal  peril  of  their  only  child,  whom 
Kallem  saves  by  a  skilful  operation.  Out  of  the 
ancient  religion  of  dogmas  which  judges  and  damns. 
Tuft  is  by  these  experiences  led  into  a  new  religion 
of  love,  which  values  life  above  faith,  and  charity 
above  all.  The  reconciliation  of  brother  and  sister 
in  the  last  chapter  is  profoundly  moving.  The 
7 


98  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LIT  ERA  TURE 

moral  is  emphasized  in  the  phrase  with  which  the 
story  closes  :  ''  Wherever  good  men  walk,  there  are 
the  ways  of  God." 

The  charm  of  this  novel  is,  to  me,  that  it  is 
strong,  virile,  instinct  with  vital  thought.  There 
are  blemishes  in  it,  too,  which  no  one  will  be  likely 
to  overlook.  Several  chapters  read  like  the  reports 
of  a  clinic  in  a  medical  journal,  so  extremely  mi- 
nute and  circumstantial  are  the  accounts  of  Kallem's 
operations  and  hypnotic  experiments.  An  excur- 
sion into  botany,  a  proj^os  of  Eagni's  walk  in  the 
woods,  is  likewise  overloaded  with  details  and  teems 
with  scientific  terms.  But  the  greatest  blemish  is 
the  outbreak  in  Kallem  (who  has  the  author's  full- 
est sympathy)  of  a  certain  barbaric  violence  which 
to  civilized  people  is  well-nigh  incomprehensible. 
Thus,  when,  after  an  absence  of  six  years,  he  calls 
upon  his  brother-in-law,  the  pastor,  he  proceeds  to 
turn  handsprings  about  the  latter's  study.  When, 
after  his  marriage,  his  sister  meets  him  in  the 
street  for  the  purpose  of  informing  him  of  the 
scandalous  rumors  concerning  his  wife,  he  gives 
her  a  box  on  the  ear. 

In  BJornson's  last  book,  ''  New  Tales "  {Nye 
Fortaellinger)  (1894),  this  tendency  to  vehemence 
is  even  more  marked.  In  the  masterly  story,  "Ab- 
salom's Hair"  (than  which  the  author  has  never 
written  anything  more  boldly  original)  old  Harold 
Kaas  literally  spanks  his  young  wife  in  the  pres- 
ence of  his  servants.  And  the  matter  is  in  nowise 
minced,  but  described   with  an  unblushing  zest 


BJORNSTJERNE   BJOKNSON  99 

■which  makes  the  impression  of  naivete.  It  is  ob- 
vious that  in  his  delight  in  the  exhibition  of  a 
healthy,  primitive  wrath,  Bjornson  half  forgets 
how  such  barbarism  must  affect  his  readers.  We 
hear,  to  be  sure,  that  the  servants  were  filled  with 
indignation  and  horror,  and  that  Harold  Kaas, 
having  expected  laughter  and  applause,  "went 
away  a  defeated  and  irremediably  crushed  man." 
But  for  all  that  the  incident  is  crude,  harsh,  and 
needlessly  revolting.  In  Russia  it  might  have 
happened ;  but  I  am  inclined  to  doubt  if  a  Norwe- 
gian gentleman,  even  though  he  were  descended 
from  the  untamable  Kurts,  would  have  been  ca- 
pable of  so  outrageous  a  breach  of  decency. 

Apart  from  this  incident,  '*  Absalom's  Hair  "  is 
so  interpenetrated  with  a  sense  of  reality  that  we 
seem  to  live  the  story  rather  than  read  it.  I  verily 
believe  it  to  be  a  type  of  what  the  fiction  of  the 
future  will  be,  when  scientific  education  shall  have 
been  largely  substituted  for  the  classical ;  and  even 
the  novelists  will  be  expected  to  know  something 
about  the  world  in  which  they  live  and  the  sublime 
and  inexorable  laws  which  govern  it.  At  present 
the  majority  of  them  spin  irresponsible  yarns,  and 
play  Providence  ad  lihitu7n  to  their  characters. 
Man's  vital  coherence  with  his  environment  is  but 
loosely  indicated.  Chance  reigns  supreme.  They 
have  observed  carefully  enough  the  external  phe- 
nomena of  life — and  chiefly  for  their  picturesque 
or  dramatic  interest — but  of  the  causes  which  un- 
derlie them  they  rarely  give  us  a  glimpse. 


I OO     SCA  NDINA  VIA  M  LITER  A  TURE 

It  is  in  tliis  respect  that  Bjornson's  last  tales  of- 
fer so  grateful  a  contrast  to  conventional  fiction. 
Here  is  a  man  who  has  resolutely  aroused  himself 
from  the  old  romantic  doze,  cleared  his  eyes  of  the 
film  of  dreams,  and  with  a  sharj),  wide-awake  in- 
tensity focussed  them  to  the  actual  aspect  of  the 
actual  world.  He  has  sat  down  with  his  windows 
wide  open,  and  allowed  the  sounds  and  sights  and 
smells  of  reality  to  pour  in  npon  him.  And  the 
magic  spectacles  are  his  which  enable  him  to  gauge 
the  significance  of  the  phenomena  and  divine  the 
causes  which  lurk  behind  them.  Therefore  his 
characterizations  are  often  extremely  unconven- 
tional, and  amid  all  their  picturesque  vigor  of 
phrase  hint  at  the  kind  of  knowledge  which  could 
only  be  possessed  by  a  family  physician.  In  "  Ab- 
salom's Hair  "  we  have  no  mere  agglomeration  of 
half-digested  scientific  data,  but  a  scientific  view  of 
life.  The  story  moves,  from  beginning  to  end,  with 
a  beautiful  epic  calm  and  a  grand  inevitableness 
which  remind  one  of  Tolstoi,  and  reaches  far  tow- 
ard the  high  -  water  mark  of  modern  realism. 
Take,  for  instance,  the  characterization  of  Kirsten 
Ravn  (pp.  11-15),  and  I  wonder  where  in  contem- 
porary fiction  so  large  and  deep  a  comprehension 
is  shown  both  of  psychic  and  of  physical  forces. 
Emma,  the  heroine  of  Flaubert's  "  Madame  Bo- 
vary"  is  the  only  parallel  I  can  recall,  as  regards 
the  kind  and  method  of  portraiture,  though  there  is 
no  resemblance  between  the  characters.  In  the  de- 
velopment of  the  character  of  Rafael  Kaas,  there  is 


BJORNSTJERNE   B JOHNS  ON  lOI 

the  same  beautiful  respect  for  human  nature,  the 
same  unshrinking  statement  of  "  shocking^'  facts, 
and  the  same  undeviating  adherence  to  the  logic  of 
reality.  The  hair  by  which  Rafael,  as  his  proto- 
type, the  son  of  David,  is  arrested  and  suspended 
in  the  midst  of  his  triumphant  race  is  sensuality. 
His  life  is  on  the  point  of  being  wrecked,  and  his 
splendid  powers  are  dissipated  by  his  inability  to 
restrain  his  passions.  The  tragic  fate  which  hovers 
over  him  from  the  moment  of  his  birth  is  admi- 
rably hinted  at,  but  not  emphasized,  in  the  sketch 
of  his  parents.  The  carnal  overbalance,  supplied 
by  the  blood  of  the  Kurts,  wellnigh  neutralizes 
the  meclianical  genius  which  is  hereditary  in  the 
blood  of  the  Ravns. 

It  is  reported  that  "  Absalom's  Hair  "  has  aroused 
great  indignation  in  Cliristiania,  because  it  is 
claimed  that  the  characters  are  drawn,  with  scarce- 
ly an  attempt  at  disguise,  from  well-known  persons 
in  the  Norwegian  capital. 

The  remaining  stories  of  the  volume,  "  An  Ugly 
Eeminiscence  of  Childhood,"  "Mother's  Hands," 
and  "  One  Day  "  betray  the  same  contempt  for  ro- 
mantic standards,  the  same  capacity  for  making 
acquaintance  with  life  at  first  hand.  The  first- 
named  is  an  account  of  a  murder  and  execution, 
and  extremely  painful.  The  second  is  a  bit  of 
pathological  psychology  a  propos  of  intemperance. 
Tastes  imprisoned,  genius  cramped  and  perverted, 
joy  of  life  {joie  de  vivi'e)  denied,  will  avenge  them- 
selves.   They  will  break  out  in  drunkenness.     The 


102  SCANDINAVIAN'  LITERATURE 

hero  of  ''  One  Day"  is  afflicted  with  the  same  vice, 
and  ajDiDarently  for  the  same  reason.  The  cruel 
disillusion  which  in  consequence  overtakes  the  poor 
little  soul-starved  heroine  rises  almost  to  the  height 
of  tragedy.  It  is  an  every-day  tale,  full  of  '^  deep 
and  blood-veined  humanity,"  and  deriving  its  in- 
terest and  significance  from  the  very  fact  of  its 
commonness. 

What  distinguishes  the  Norsemen  above  other 
nations  is,  generally  speaking,  an  indestructible 
self-respect  and  force  of  individuality.  The  old 
Norse  sagas  abound  in  illustrations  of  this  untam- 
able vigor  and  ruthless  self-assertion.  It  was  the 
looseness  of  the  social  structure,  resulting  from 
this  sense  of  independence  and  consequent  jealousy 
and  internecine  warfare,  which  destroyed  the  Ice- 
landic republic  and  made  Norway  for  four  cen- 
turies a  province  of  Denmark.  In  all  the  great 
men  of  Norway  we  recognize  something  of  the 
rampant  individualism  of  their  Viking  forefathers. 
Ibsen  is  the  modern  apostle  par  excellence  of  philo- 
sophic anarchism  ;  and  BJornson,  too,  has  his  full 
share  of  the  national  aggressiveness  and  pugnacity. 
For  all  that  there  is  a  radical  difference  between 
the  two.  The  sense  of  social  obligation  which 
Ibsen  lacks,  BJornson  possesses  in  a  high  degree. 
He  fights,  not  as  a  daring  guerilla,  but  as  the 
spokesman  and  leader  of  thousands.  He  is  the 
chieftain  who  looms  a  head  above  all  the  people. 
He  wields  a  heavy  sword,  and  he  deals  mighty 
blows.     The  wrath  that  possesses  him  is,  however. 


BJORNSTJERNE   BJORNSON'  IO3 

born  of  love.  He  fights  man  in  the  name  of  hu- 
manity. It  is  not  for  himself,  primarily,  that  he 
demands  larger  liberties,  securer  rights,  more  hu- 
manizing conditions  of  life  ;  but  it  is  for  his  fellow- 
men.  The  many,  the  small  and  down-trodden,  the 
dumb  millions,  whom  Ibsen  despises,  Bjoruson 
loves.     As  Dr.  Brandes  *  has  so  happily  said  : 

"  Ibsen  is  a  judge,  stern  as  the  old  jndges  of 
Israel.  Bjornson  is  a  prophet,  the  hopeful  herald 
of  a  better  day.  Ibsen  is,  in  tlie  depth  of  his  mind, 
a  great  revolutionist.  In  '  The  Comedy  of  Love,* 
*  A  DolFs  House,'  and  '  Ghosts,*  he  scourges  mar- 
riage ;  in  '  Brand,'  the  State  Church ;  in  the 
'Pillars  of  Society,'  the  dominant  bourgeoisie. 
Whatever  he  attacks  is  shivered  into  splinters  by 
his  profound  and  superior  criticism.  Only  the 
shattered  ruins  remain,  and  we  are  nnable  to  espy 
the  new  social  institutions  beyond  them.  Bjorn- 
son is  a  conciliatory  spirit  who  wages  war  without 
bitterness.  April  sunshine  glints  and  gleams 
through  all  his  works,  while  those  of  Ibsen,  with 
their  sombre  seriousness,  lie  in  deep  shadow. 
Ibsen  loves  the  idea — the  logical  and  psychologi- 
cal consistency  which  drives  Brand  out  of  the 
church  and  Nora  out  of  the  marital  relation.  To 
Ibsen's  love  of  the  idea  corresponds  Bjornson's  love 
of  man." 

*Det  Moderne  Gjennembruds  Maend,  p.  60. 


1 04  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LIT  ERA  TURE 


Bibliography. 

As  Bjornson's  works  have  been  translated  not  only  into 
English,  French,  and  German,  but  also  largely  into  Rus- 
sian, Italian,  Spanish,  Bohemian,  and  even  remoter  tongues, 
a  bibliography,  including  all  translations,  would  demand  a 
volume  by  itself.  I  shall  therefore  only  enumerate  the  more 
important  English  translations  ;  but  would  warn  my  readers 
not  to  judge  Bjornson's  style  by  that  of  his  translators. 
Arne:  Translated  by  Augusta  Plesner  and  S.  R.  Powers 
(Boston,  1872).  The  Happy  Boy :  Translated  by  H.  R.  G. 
(Boston,  1872).  The  Bailroad  and  the  Churchyard,  The 
Eagles  Nest,  and  The  Father  are  contained  in  the  volume  to 
which  Goldschmidt's  The  Flying  Mail  gives  the  title 
(Sever,  Francis  &  Co.,  Boston  and  Cambridge,  1870).  The 
following  volumes  are  translated  by  Professor  R.  B.  An- 
derson, and  published  in  a  uniform  edition  by  Houghton, 
Mifflin  &  Co.  (Boston,  1881) :  Synnove  Solhakken,  Arne,  A 
Happy  Boy,  The  Fisher  Maiden,  The  Bridal  March, 
Magnhild,  Captain  Mansana  and  other  Stories.  Sigurd 
Slembe :  A  Dramatic  Trilogy :  Translated  by  William  Morton 
Payne  (Boston  and  New  York,  1888).  Ai'ne  and  Tfie  Fisher 
Lassie :  Translated,  with  an  Introduction,  by  W.  H.  Low 
(Bohn  Library,  London).  Pastor  Sang  {Over  Aevne) :  Trans- 
lated by  Wm.  Wilson  (London,  1893).  In  God's  Way 
(Heinemann's  International  Library,  London,  1891).  The 
Heritage  of  the  Kurts,  1892.  A  Oauntlet.  A  Play.  Lon- 
don, 1894.  A  new  translation  of  all  Bjornson's  novels  and 
tales  has  just  been  announced  by  Messrs.  Macmillan  & 
Co.,  and  the  first  volume,  Synnove  Solbakken  (New  York 
and  London,  1895),  has  appeared.  The  translation  is  rather 
slipshod. 


ALEXANDER  KIELLAND 


ALEXANDER  KIELLAND 

IN  June,  1867;,  about  a  hundred  enthusiastic 
youths  were  vociferously  celebrating  their  at- 
tainment of  the  baccalaureate  degree  at  the  Uni- 
versity of  Norway.  The  orator  on  this  occasion 
was  a  tall,  handsome,  distinguished-looking  young 
man  named  Alexander  Kielland,  from  the  little 
coast  town  of  Stavanger.  There  was  none  of  the 
crudity  of  a  provincial  either  in  his  manners  or 
his  appearance.  He  spoke  with  a  quiet  self-pos- 
session and  a  pithy  incisiveness  which  were  alto- 
gether phenomenal. 

"  That  young  man  will  be  heard  from  one  of 
these  days,"  was  the  unanimous  verdict  of  those 
who  listened  to  his  clear-cut  and  finished  sen- 
tences, and  noted  the  maturity  of  his  opinions. 

But  ten  years  passed,  and  outside  of  Stavanger 
no  one  ever  heard  of  Alexander  Kielland.  His 
friends  were  aware  that  he  had  studied  law,  spent 
some  winters  in  France,  married,  and  settled  him- 
self as  a  dignitary  in  his  native  town.  It  was  un- 
derstood that  he  had  bought  a  large  brick  and  tile 
factory,  and  that  as  a  manufacturer  of  these  use- 
ful articles  he  bid  fair  to  become  a  provincial  mag- 
nate, as  his  fathers  had  been  before  him.     People 


1 08  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

had  almost  forgotten  that  great  things  had  "been 
expected  of  him,  and  some  fancied  perhaps  that 
he  had  been  spoiled  by  prosperity.  Remembering 
him,  as  I  did,  as  the  most  brilliant  and  notable 
personality  among  my  university  friends,  I  began 
to  api^ly  to  him  Mallock's  epigrammatic  damnation 
of  the  man  of  whom  it  was  said  at  twenty  that  he 
would  do  great  things,  at  thirty  that  he  might  do 
great  things,  and  at  forty  that  he  might  have  done 
great  things. 

This  was  the  frame  of  mind  of  those  who  re- 
membered Alexander  Kielland  (and  he  was  an 
extremely  difficult  man  to  forget),  when  in  the 
year  1879  a  modest  volume  of  "  Novelettes  "  ap- 
peared, bearing  his  name.  It  was,  to  all  appear- 
ances, a  light  performance,  but  it  revealed  a  sense 
of  style  which  made  it,  nevertheless,  notable.  No 
man  had  ever  written  the  Norwegian  language  as 
this  man  wrote  it.  There  was  a  lightness  of  touch, 
a  perspicacity,  an  epigrammatic  sparkle,  and  oc- 
casional flashes  of  wit  which  seemed  altogether  un- 
Norwegian.  It  was  obvious  that  this  author  was 
familiar  with  the  best  French  writers,  and  had  ac- 
quired through  them  that  clear  and  crisp  incisive- 
ness  of  utterance  which  was  supposed,  hitherto,  to 
be  untransferable  to  any  other  tongue. 

As  regards  the  themes  of  these  "  Novelettes,^' 
it  was  remarked  at  the  time  of  their  first  ap- 
pearance that  they  hinted  at  a  more  serious  pur- 
pose than  their  style  seemed  to  imj)ly.  Who  can 
read,  for  instance,  '^  Pharaoh  "  (which  in  the  orig- 


ALEXANDER  KIELLAND  lOp 

inal  is  entitled  ''  A  Ball  Mood  '')  Avithout  detect- 
ing the  revolutionary  note  that  trembles  quite 
audibly  through  the  calm  and  unimpassioned  lan- 
guage ?  There  is,  by  the  way,  a  little  touch  of 
melodrama  in  this  tale  which  is  very  unusual  with 
Kielland.  "  Eomance  and  Reality,"  too,  is  glar- 
ingly at  variance  with  conventional  romanticism 
in  its  satirical  contrasting  of  the  prematrimonial 
and  the  postmatrimonial  view  of  love  and  mar- 
riage. The  same  persistent  tendency  to  present 
the  wrong  side  as  well  as  the  right  side — and  not, 
as  literary  good  manners  are  supposed  to  pre- 
scribe, ignore  the  former — is  obvious  in  the  charm- 
ing tale,  ^'^At  the  Fair,"  where  a  little  spice  of 
wholesome  truth  spoils  the  thoughtlessly  festive 
mood  ;  and  the  squalor,  the  want,  the  envy,  hate, 
and  greed  which  prudence  and  a  regard  for  busi- 
ness compel  the  performers  to  disguise  to  the  pub- 
lic, become  the  more  cruelly  visible  to  the  visitors 
of  the  little  alley- way  at  the  rear  of  the  tents.  In 
''  A  Good  Conscience "  the  satirical  note  has  a 
still  more  serious  ring  ;  but  the  same  admirable 
self-restraint  which,  next  to  the  power  of  thought 
and  expression,  is  the  happiest  gift  an  author's 
fairy  godmother  can  bestow  upon  him,  saves  Kiel- 
land  from  saying  too  much — from  enforcing  his 
lesson  by  marginal  comments,  a  la  George  Eliot. 
But  he  must  be  obtuse  indeed  to  whom  this  reti- 
cence is  not  more  eloquent  and  effective  than  a 
page  of  philosophical  moralizing. 

''Hope's  Clad  in  April  Green  "  and  ''  The  Bat- 


1 1 0  SC.l  XDLYA  J  'I A  N  LITER  A  TURE 

tie  of  Waterloo  "  (the  first  and  the  last  tale  in  the 
Norwegian  edition)  are  more  untinged  with  a 
moral  tendency  than  any  of  the  foregoing.  The 
former  is  a  mere  /ez^  d' esprit,  full  of  good-natured 
satire  on  the  calf-love  of  very  young  people,  and 
the  amusing  over-estimate  of  our  imiDortance  to 
which  we  are  all,  at  that  age,  peculiarly  liable. 

As  an  organist  with  vaguely  melodious  hints 
foreshadows  in  his  prelude  the  musical  motifs 
which  he  means  to  vary  and  elaborate  in  his 
fugue,  so  Kielland  lightly  touched  in  these  "  Nov- 
elettes "  the  themes  which  in  his  later  works  he 
has  struck  with  a  fuller  volume  and  power.  What 
he  gave  in  this  little  book  was  a  liglrt  sketch  of 
his  mental  physiognomy,  from  which,  perhaps, 
his  horoscope  might  be  cast  and  his  literary  future 
predicted. 

Though  a  patrician  by  birth  and  training,  he 
revealed  a  strong  sympathy  with  the  toiling  masses. 
But  it  was  a  democracy  of  the  brain,  I  should  fancy, 
rather  than  of  the  heart.  As  I  read  the  book, 
sixteen  years  ago,  its  tendency  puzzled  me  consid- 
erably, remembering,  as  I  did,  with  the  greatest 
vividness,  the  fastidious  and  distingue  personality 
of  the  author.  I  found  it  difficult  to  believe  that  he 
was  in  earnest.  The  book  seemed  to  me  to  betray 
the  whimsical  sans-culottism  of  a  man  of  pleasure 
who,  when  the  ball  is  at  an  end,  sits  down  with  his 
gloves  on,  and  philosophizes  on  the  artificiality  of 
civilization  and  the  wholesomeness  of  honest  toil. 
An  indigestion  makes  him  a  temporary  commu- 


ALEXANDER  KIELLAND  III 

nist ;  but  a  bottle  of  seltzer  presently  reconciles  him 
to  his  lot,  and  restores  the  equilibrium  of  the  uni- 
verse. He  loves  the  people  at  a  distance,  can  talk 
prettily  about  the  sturdy  son  of  the  soil,  who  is 
the  core  and  marrow  of  the  nation,  etc.;  but  he 
avoids  contact  with  him,  and,  if  chance  brings 
them  into  contact,  he  loves  him  with  his  handker- , 
chief  to  his  nose.  - 

I  may  be  pardoned  for  having  identified  Alexan- 
der Kielland  with  this  type,  with  which  I  am  very 
familiar  ;  and  he  convinced  me  presently  that  I 
had  done  him  injustice.  In  his  next  book,  the 
admirable  novel  "  Garman  and  "Worse,"  he  showed 
that  his  democratic  proclivities  were  something 
more  than  a  mood.  He  showed  that  he  took  him- 
self seriously,  and  he  compelled  the  public  to  take 
him  seriously.  The  tendency  which  had  only 
flashed  forth  here  and  there  in  the  "  Novelettes" 
now  revealed  its  whole  countenance.  The  author's 
theme  was  the  life  of  the  prosperous  bourgeoisie  in 
the  western  coast  towns  ;  and  lie  drew  their  types 
with  a  hand  that  gave  evidence  of  intimate  knowl- 
edge. He  had  himself  sprung  from  one  of  these 
rich  ship-owning,  patrician  families,  had  been  given 
every  opportunity  to  study  life  both  at  home  and 
abroad,  and  had  accumulated  a  fund  of  knowledge 
of  the  world,  which  he  had  allowed  quietly  to 
grow  before  making  literary  draughts  upon  it. 
The  same  Gallic  perspicacity  of  style  which  had 
charmed  in  his  first  book  was  here  in  a  heightened 
degree  ;  and  there  was,  besides,  the  same  underly- 


1 1 2  SCANDINA  VI AN  LITERA TURE 

ing  sympathy  with  progress  and  what  is  called  the 
ideas  of  the  age.  What  mastery  of  descriptiorij 
what  rich  and  vigorous  colors,  Kielland  had  at  his 
disposal  was  demonstrated  in  such  scenes  as  the 
funeral  of  Consul  Garman  and  the  burning  of  the 
ship.  There  was,  moreover,  a  delightful  autobio- 
graphical note  in  the  book,  particularly  in  the  boy- 
ish experiences  of  Gabriel  Garman.  Such  things 
no  man  invents,  however  clever  ;  such  material  no 
imagination  sujoplies,  however  fertile.  Except 
Fritz  Renter's  Stavenhagen,  I  know  no  small  town 
in  fiction  which  is  so  vividly  and  completely  in- 
dividualized, and  populated  with  such  living  and 
credible  characters.  Take,  for  instance,  the  two 
clergymen.  Archdeacon  Sparre  and  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Martens,  and  it  is  not  necessary  to  have  lived  in 
Norway  in  order  to  recognize  and  enjoy  the  faith- 
fulness and  the  artistic  subtlety  of  these  portraits. 
If  they  have  a  dash  of  satire  (which  I  will  not  un- 
dertake to  deny),  it  is  such  delicate  and  well-bred 
satire  that  no  one,  except  the  originals,  would 
think  of  taking  offence.  People  are  willing,  for 
the  sake  of  the  entertainment  which  it  affords,  to 
forgive  a  little  quiet  malice  at  their  neighbors'  ex- 
pense. The  members  of  the  provincial  bureau- 
cracy are  drawn  with  the  same  firm  but  delicate 
touch,  and  everything  has  that  beautiful  air  of 
reality  which  proves  the  world  akin. 

It  was  by  no  means  a  departure  from  his  previ- 
ous style  and  tendency  which  Kielland  signalized 
in  his  next  novel,    ''^  Laboring   People"   (1881). 


ALEXANDER  KIELLAND  I13 

He  only  emphasizes,  as  it  were,  the  heavy,  serious 
bass  chords  in  the  composite  theme  which  ex- 
presses his  complex  personality,  and  allows  the 
lighter  treble  notes  to  be  momentarily  drowned. 
His  theme  is  the  corrupting  influence  of  the  upper 
upon  the  lower  class.  He  has  in  this  book  made 
some  appalling,  soul-searching  studies  in  the  pa- 
thology as  well  as  the  psychology  of  vice. 

Kielland's  third  novel,  "  Skipper  Worse,"  marked 
a  distinct  step  in  his  development.  It  was  less  of 
a  social  satire  and  more  of  a  social  study.  It  was 
not  merely  a  series  of  brilliant,  exquisitely  finished 
scenes,  loosely  strung  together  on  a  slender  thread 
of  narrative,  but  was  a  concise  and  well-constructed 
story,  full  of  beautiful  scenes  and  admirable  por- 
traits. The  theme  is  akin  to  that  of  Daudet^s 
"  L'Evangeliste  ;  "  but  Kielland,  as  it  appears  to 
me,  has  in  this  instance  outdone  his  French  con- 
frere, as  regards  insight  into  the  peculiar  character 
and  poetry  of  the  pietistic  movement.  He  has 
dealt  with  it  as  a  psychological  and  not  primarily 
as  a  pathological  phenomenon.  A  comparison 
with  Daudet  suggests  itself  constantly  in  reading 
Kielland.  Their  methods  of  workmanship  and 
their  attitude  toward  life  have  many  points  in 
common.  The  charm  of  style,  the  delicacy  of 
touch,  and  felicity  of  phrase,  are  in  both  cases 
pre-eminent.  Daudet  has,  however,  the  advan- 
tage (or,  as  he  himself  asserts,  the  disadvantage)  of 
working  in  a  flexible  and  highly  finished  language, 
which  bears  the  impress  of  the  labors  of  a  hundred 
8 


114  -S^C^  NDINA  VIA  N  LIT  ERA  TURE 

masters  ;  wliile  Kielland  has  to  produce  liis  effects 
of  style  in  a  poorer  and  less  pliable  language, 
which  often  pants  and  groans  in  its  efforts  to  ren- 
der a  subtle  thought.  To  have  polished  this 
tongue  and  sharpened  its  capacity  for  refined  and 
incisive  utterance,  is  one — and  not  the  least — of 
his  merits. 

Though  he  has  by  nature  no  more  sympathy 
with  the  pietistic  movement  than  Daudet,  Kiel- 
land  yet  manages  to  get  psychologically  closer  to 
his  problem.  His  pietists  are  more  humanly  in- 
teresting than  those  of  Daudet,  and  the  little 
drama  which  they  set  in  motion  is  more  genuinely 
pathetic.  Two  superb  figures — the  lay  preacher 
Hans  Nilsen  and  Skipper  Worse — surpass  all  that 
the  author  had  hitherto  produced  in  depth  of  con- 
ception and  brilliancy  of  execution.  The  mar- 
riage of  that  delightful,  profane  old  sea-dog  Jacob 
Worse  with  the  pious  Sara  Torvestad,  and  the  at- 
tempts of  his  mother-in-laAv  to  convert  him,  are 
described  not  with  the  merely  superficial  drollery 
to  which  the  subject  invites,  but  with  a  sweet  and 
delicate  humor  which  trembles  on  the  verge  of  pa- 
thos. In  the  Christmas  tale,  '^^  Elsie,"  Kielland 
has  produced  a  little  classic  of  almost  flawless  per- 
fection. With  what  exquisite  art  he  paints  the  life 
of  a  small  Norwegian  coast-town  in  all  its  vivid  de- 
tails !  While  Bjornson,  in  "  The  Heritage  of  the 
Kurts,"  primarily  emphasizes  the  responsibility  of 
the  individual  to  society,  Kielland  chooses  to  em- 
phasize the  responsibility  of  society  to  the  individ- 


ALEXANDER  KI ELL  AND  II5 

ual.  The  former  selects  a  hero  with  vicious  inher- 
ited tendencies,  redeemed  by  wise  education  and 
favorable  environment ;  the  latter  portrays  a  hero- 
ine with  no  corrupt  predisiDosition,  destroyed  by  a 
corrupting  environment.  Elsie  could  not  be  good, 
because  the  world  was  once  so  constituted  that 
girls  of  her  kind  were  not  expected  to  be  good. 
Temptations,  perpetually  thronging  in  her  way, 
broke  down  the  moral  bulwarks  of  her  nature  ; 
resistance  seemed  in  vain.  In  the  end,  there  is 
scarcely  one  who,  having  read  the  book,  will  have 
the  heart  to  condemn  her. 

Incomparably  clever  is  the  satire  on  the  benevo- 
lent societies  which  exist  to  furnish  a  kind  of  of- 
ficious sense  of  virtue  to  their  aristocratic  mem- 
bers. "  The  Society  for  the  Eedemption  of  the 
Abandoned  Women  of  St.  Peter's  Parish  "  is  pre- 
sided over  by  a  gentleman  who  is  responsible  for 
the  abandoned  condition  of  a  goodly  number  of 
them.  However,  it  turns  out  that  those  miserable 
creatures  who  need  to  be  redeemed  belong  to  an- 
other parish,  and  accordingly  cannot  be  reached  by 
St.  Peter's.  St.  Peter's  parish  is  aristocratic,  ex- 
clusive, and  keeps  its  wickedness  discreetly  veiled. 
The  horror  of  the  secretary  of  the  society,  when 
she  hears  that  "  the  abandoned  woman  "  who  calls 
upon  her  for  aid,  has  a  child  without  being  mar- 
ried, is  both  comic  and  pathetic.  In  fact,  there  is 
not  a  scene  in  the  book  which  is  not  instinct  with 
life  and  admirably  characteristic. 

Besides  being  the  author  of  some  minor  com- 


1 1 6     SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURK 

edies  and  a  full-grown  drama  ("  The  Prof essor ''), 
Kielland  has  published  several  novels,  the  more 
recent  being  ''  Poison  "  (1883),  "  Fortnna  "  (1884), 
"  Snow"  (1886),  and  "  St.  John's  Eve  "  (1887). 

The  note  of  promise  and  suspense  with  which 
''  Snow ''  ends  is  meant  to  be  symbolic.  From 
Kielland's  j)oint  of  view,  Norway  is  yet  wraj)ped  in 
the  wintry  winding-sheet  of  a  tyrannical  ortho- 
doxy, and  all  he  dares  assert  is  that  the  chains  of 
frost  and  snow  seem  to  be  loosening.  There  is  a 
spring  feeling  in  the  air. 

This  spring  feeling  is  scarcely  perceptible  in  his 
last  book,  "■  Jacob  "  (1890),  which  is  written  in 
anything  but  a  hopeful  mood.  It  is  rather  a  pro- 
test against  that  optimism  which  in  fiction  we  call 
poetic  justice.  The  harsh  and  unsentimental  logic 
of  reality  is  emphasized  with  a  ruthless  disregard 
of  rose-colored  traditions. 

From  the  pedagogic  point  of  view,  I  have  no 
doubt  that  "  Jacob  "  would  be  classed  as  an  im- 
moral book.  But  the  question  of  its  morality  is 
of  less  consequence  than  the  question  of  its  truth. 
The  most  modern  literature,  which  is  interpene- 
trated with  the  spirit  of  the  age,  has  a  way  of  ask- 
ing dangerous  questions — questions  before  which 
the  reader,  when  he  perceives  their  full  scope, 
stands  aghast.  Our  old  idyllic  faith  in  the  good- 
ness and  wisdom  of  all  mundane  arrangements  has 
undoubtedly  received  a  shock.  Our  attitude  to- 
ward the  universe  is  changing  with  the  change  of 
its  attitude  toward  us.     AVhat  the  thinking  part  of 


ALEXANDER  KIELLAND  WJ 

hnmanity  is  now  largely  engaged  in  doing  is  read- 
justing itself  toward  the  world  and  the  world  to- 
ward it.  Success  is  but  adaptation  to  environment, 
and  success  is  the  supreme  aim  of  the  modern  man. 
The  authors  who,  by  their  fearless  thinking  and 
speaking,  help  us  toward  this  readjustment  should, 
in  my  opinion,  whether  we  choose  to  accept  their 
conclusions  or  not,  be  hailed  as  benefactors.  It  is 
in  the  ranks  of  these  that  Alexander  Kielland  has 
taken  his  place,  and  occupies  a  conspicuous  posi- 
tion. 


JONAS  LIE 


JONAS   LIE 


THE  last  Norwegian  novelist  wlio  is  in  the 
Parisian  sense  arrive  is  Jonas  Lie.*  The  Fi- 
garo has  occupied  itself  with  him  of  late  ;  and 
before  long,  I  venture  to  predict,  London  and 
New  York  will  also  have  discovered  him.  Eng- 
lish versions  of  a  few  of  his  earlier  novels  ap- 
peared, to  be  sure,  twenty  years  ago — in  very  bad 
translations — and  accordingly  attracted  no  great 
attention.  "  The  Visionary,'^  which  has  recently 
been  published  in  London,  has  had  better  luck, 
having  been  accorded  a  flattering  reception.  Of 
its  popular  success  it  is  yet  too  early  to  speak. 
But  even  if  Jonas  Lie  were  not  about  to  knock  at 
our  gates,  I  venture  to  say  that  I  shall  earn  the 
gratitude  of  many  a  reader  by  making  him  ac- 
quainted with  this  rare,  complex,  and  exceedingly 
modern  spirit.  For  Jonas  Lie  is  not  (like  so  many 
of  his  brethren  of  the  quill)  a  mere  inoffensive 
gentleman  who  spins  yarns  for  a  living,  but  he  is 
a  forceful  personality  of  bright  perceptions  and 
keen  sensations,  which  has  chosen  to  express  itself 
through  the  medium  of  the  novel.  He  dwells  in 
a  many-windowed  house,  with  a  large  outlook  upon 

*  Pronounced  Lee. 


122  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

the  world  and  its  manifold  concerns.  In  a  score 
of  novels  of  varying  degrees  of  excellence  he  has 
given  us  vividly  realized  bits  of  the  views  which 
his  windows  command.  But  what  lends  their 
chief  charm  to  these  uncompromising  specimens 
of  modern  realism  is  a  certain  richness  of  temper- 
ament on  the  author^s  part,  which  suffuses  even 
the  harshest  narrative  with  a  rosy  glow  of  hope. 
Though,  generally  speaking,  there  is  no  very  close 
kinship  between  him  and  the  French  realists,  I  am 
tempted  to  apply  to  him  Zola's  beautiful  charac- 
terization of  Daudet  :  "  Benevolent  Nature  placed 
him  at  that  exquisite  point  where  reality  ends  and 
poetry  begins."  Before  he  had  yet  written  a  sin- 
gle book,  except  a  volume  of  flamboyant  verse, 
Bjornson  said  of  him  in  a  public  speech  :  "  His 
friends  know  that  he  only  has  to  plunge  his  land- 
ing-net down  into  himself  in  order  to  bring  it  up 
full." 

The  man  who,  in  anticipation  of  his  achieve- 
ments, impressed  Bjornson  so  deeply  with  his 
genius,  was,  however,  by  others,  who  felt  them- 
selves to  be  no  less  entitled  to  an  opinion,  re- 
garded as  an  ''  original,"  not  to  say  a  fool.  That 
he  was  decidedly  queer,  his  biography  by  Arne 
Garborg  amply  testifies. 

•'  Two  souls,  alas,  abide  within  my  breast, 
The  one  forever  strives  against  the  otlier," 

says  Faust ;  and  Jonas  Lie's  life  and  literary  activ- 
ity are  apparently,  in  a  very  real  sense,  the  result 


JONAS  LIE  123 

of  a  similar  warfare.  There  was,  indeed,  a  good 
ancestral  reason  for  the  duality  of  his  nature.  His 
father,  a  Judge  of  sterling  ability  and  uprightness, 
was  descended,  but  a  few  generations  back,  from 
sturdy,  blond,  Norwegian  peasants ;  while  his 
mother  was  of  Finnish,  or  possibly  Gypsy,  de- 
scent. I  remember  well  this  black-eyed,  eccentric 
little  lady,  with  her  queer  ways,  extraordinary 
costumes,  and  still  more  extraordinary  conversa- 
tion. It  is  from  her  Jonas  Lie  has  inherited  the 
fantastic  strain  in  his  blood,  the  strange,  super- 
stitious terrors,  and  the  luxuriant  wealth  of  color 
which  he  lavished  upon  his  poems  and  his  first 
novel,  "  The  Visionary."  From  his  paternal  an- 
cestors, who  were  for  three  generations  judges  and 
judicial  functionaries,  he  has  derived  his  good 
sense,  his  intense  appreciation  of  detail,  and  his 
strong  grip  on  reality.  His  career  represents  at 
its  two  poles  a  progression  from  the  adventurous 
romanticism  of  his  maternal  heritage  to  the  severe, 
wide-awake  realism  of  the  paternal — the  emancipa- 
tion of  the  Norseman  from  the  Finn. 

^^  Jonas  Lie  has  a  good  memory,"  writes  his 
biographer.  ''  Thus  he  remembers — even  though 
it  be  as  through  a  haze — that  he  was  once  in  the 
world  as  the  son  of  a  laborer,  a  carpenter,  or  some- 
thing in  that  line,  and  that  he  went  with  food  in 
a  tin-pail  to  his  father,  when  he  was  at  work. 
During  this  incarnation  he  must  have  behaved 
rather  shabbily  ;  for  in  the  next  he  found  himself 
degraded  to  a  fox — a  silver  fox — and  in  this  capac- 


1 24  SCANDINA  VI AN  LITER  A  TURE 

ity  he  was  shot  one  moonlight  night  on  the  snow. 
After  that  he  emerged,  according  to  his  recollec- 
tion, as  Jonas  Lauritz  Idemil,  son  of  the  lawyer 
Mons  Lie,  at  Hougsund,  in  Eker.  This  took  place 
November  6,  1833/' 

When  he  was  but  a  few  years  old  his  father  re- 
moved, in  various  official  ca]3acities,  to  Mandal, 
Sondhordland,  and,  finally,  to  the  city  of  Trom- 
soe,  in  Nordland.  It  was  here,  in  the  extreme 
north,  that  Jonas  spent  the  years  of  his  boyhood, 
and  it  was  this  wild,  enchanted  region  which  put 
the  deepest  impress  upon  his  spirit. 

^'  In  Nordland,"  he  says  in  ''  The  Visionary," 
the  hero  of  which  is  essentially  the  Finnish  half 
of  himself,  ^'^all  natural  phenomena  are  intense, 
and  appear  in  colossal  contrasts.  There  is  an  end- 
less, stony-gray  desert  as  in  primeval  times,  before 
men  dwelt  there  ;  but  in  the  midst  of  this  are  also 
endless  natural  riches.  There  is  sun  and  glory  of 
summer,  the  day  of  which  is  not  only  twelve  hours, 
but  lasts  continuously,  day  and  night,  for  three 
months — a  warm,  bright,  fragrance-laden  summer, 
with  an  infinite  wealth  of  color  and  changing 
beauty.  Distances  of  seventy  to  eighty  miles 
across  the  mirror  of  the  sea  approach,  as  it  were, 
within  earshot.  The  mountains  clothe  themselves 
np  to  the  very  top  with  greenish-brown  grass,  and 
in  the  glens  and  ravines  the  little  birches  join 
hands  for  play,  like  white,  sixteen-year-old  girls  ; 
while  the  fragrance  of  the  strawberry  and  rasp- 
berry fills  the  air  as  nowhere  else  ;  and  the  day  is 


JONAS  LIE  125 

SO  hot  that  yon  feel  a  need  to  bathe  yonrself  in 
the  sun-steeped,  plashing  sea,  so  wondrously  clear 
to  the  very  bottom.  .  .  .  Myriads  of  birds  are 
surging  through  the  air,  like  white  breakers  about 
the  cliffs,  and  like  a  screaming  snow-storm  about 
their  brooding-places.     .     .     ." 

But  "as  a  contrast  there  is  a  night  of  darkness 
and  terror  which  lasts  nine  mouths." 

In  this  arctic  gloom,  during  which  the  yellow 
candle-light  struggled  all  day  long  througli  the 
frost-covered  window-panes,  the  Finn  grew  big  in 
Jonas  Lie,  and  the  Norseman  shrank  and  was  al- 
most dwarfed.  The  air  was  teeming  with  supersti- 
tions which  he  could  not  help  imbibing.  His  fancy 
fed  eagerly  on  stories  of  Draugen,  the  terrible  sea- 
bogie  who  yells  heartrendingiy  in  the  storm,  and 
the  sight  of  whom  means  death  ;  on  blood-curdling 
tales  of  Finnish  sorcery  and  all  sorts  of  uncanny 
mysteries  ;  on  folk-legends  of  trolds,  nixies,  and 
foul-weather  sprites.  He  had  his  full  share  of  that 
craving  for  horrors  which  is  common  to  boyhood  ; 
and  he  had  also  the  most  exceptional  facilities  for 
satisfying  it.  Truth  to  tell,  if  it  had  not  been  for 
the  Norse  Jekyll  in  his  nature  the  Finnish  Hyde 
might  have  run  away  with  him  altogether.  They 
were  mighty  queer  things  which  often  invaded  his 
brain,  taking  possession  of  his  thought,  paralyzing 
his  will,  and  refusing  to  budge,  no  matter  how 
earnestly  he  pleaded.  There  were  times  when  he 
grew  afraid  of  himself  ;  when  his  imagination  got 
the  upper  hand,  blowing  him  hither  and  thither 


126  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

like  a  weather-cock,  Tlieu  tlie  Norse  Jekyll  came 
to  his  rescue  and  routed  his  uncomfortable  yoke- 
fellow. Hence  that  very  curious  phenomenon  that 
the  same  man  who  has  given  us  sternly  and  soberly 
realistic  novels  like  "  The  Family  at  Gilje  "  and 
"  The  Commodore's  Daughters/'  is  also  the  author 
of  the  collection  of  tales  called  "•  Trold/'  in  which 
his  fancy  runs  riot  in  a  phantasmagoria  of  the 
grotesquest  imaginings.  The  same  Jonas  Lie  who 
comports  himself  so  properly  in  the  parlor  is  quite 
capable,  it  appears,  of  joining  nocturnally  the 
witches'  dance  at  the  Brocken  and  cutting  up  the 
wildest  antics  under  the  pale  glimpses  of  the  moon. 
Throughout  his  boyhood  he  struggled  rather  in- 
effectually against  his  Hyde,  who  made  him  kill 
roosters,  buy  cakes  on  credit,  go  on  forbidden  ex- 
peditions by  land  and  sea,  and  shamefully  neglect 
his  lessons.  Accordingly,  he  made  an  early  ac- 
quaintance Avith  the  rod,  and  was  regarded  as  well- 
nigh  incorrigible.  He  accepted  with  boyish  stoi- 
cism the  castigations  which  fell  pretty  regularly  to 
his  lot,  bore  no  one  any  grudge  for  them,  but  rarely 
thought  of  mending  his  ways,  in  order  to  avoid 
them.  They  were  somehow  part  of  the  established 
order  of  things  which  it  was  useless  to  criticise. 
In  his  reminiscences  from  his  early  years,  which  he 
published  some  years  ago,  he  is  so  delightfully  boy, 
that  no  one  who  has  any  recollection  of  that  bar- 
baric period  in  his  own  life  can  withhold  his  sym- 
pathy. The  following,  for  instance,  seems  to  me 
charming : 


JONAS  LIE  127 

"I  can  still  feel  how  she  (Kvaen  Marja,  the 
maid)  pulled  us,  cowering  and  reluctant,  out  of 
our  Avarni  beds,  where  we  lay  snug  like  birds  in 
their  nests,  between  the  reindeer  skin  and  the 
sheepskin  covering.  I  remember  how  I  stood 
asleep  and  tottering  on  the  floor,  until  I  got  a 
shower  of  cold  water  from  the  bathing-sponge  over 
my  back  and  became  wide  awake.  Then  to  jump 
into  our  clothes  !  And  now  for  the  lessons  !  It 
was  a  problem  how  to  get  a  j^eep  at  them  during 
the  scant  quarter  hour,  while  the  breakfast  was 
being  devoured  down  in  the  dining-room  with 
mother,  who  sat  and  poured  out  tea  before  the  big 
astral  lamp,  while  darkness  and  snow-drift  lay 
black  upon  the  window-panes.  Then  up  and 
away !     .     .     . 

"  There  (in  the  school)  I  sat  and  perspired  in 
the  sultry  heat  of  the  stove,  and  with  a  studiously 
unconcerned  face  watched  with  strained  anxiety 
every  expression  and  gesture  of  the  teacher.  Was 
he  in  good-humor  to-day  ?  Would  that  I  might 
escape  reciting  !  He  began  at  the  top.  .  .  . 
That  was  a  perfect  millstone  lifted  from  my 
breast,  though,  as  yet,  nothing  could  be  sure. 
Now  for  a  surreptitious  peep  at  the  end  of  the 
lesson." 

It  was  Jonas  Lie's  ambition  at  that  time  to  be- 
come a  gunsmith.  He  had  a  profound  respect  for 
the  ingenuity  and  skill  required  for  such  a  curious 
bit  of  mechanism.  But  his  father,  who  could  not 
afford  to  have  a  member  of  his  family  descend 


1 2  8     SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

into  tlie  rank  of  artisans,  promptly  strangled  that 
ambition.  Then  the  sea,  which  has  been  "  the 
Norseman's  path  to  praise  and  power/'  no  less  than 
the  Dane's,  lured  the  adventurous  lad ;  and  his 
parent,  who  had  no  exalted  expectations  regarding 
him,  gave  his  consent  to  his  entering  the  Naval 
Academy  at  Fredericksvaern.  But  here  he  was 
rejected  on  account  of  near-sightedness.  Nothing 
remained,  then,  but  to  resume  the  odious  books 
and  prepare  to  enter  the  University.  But  to  a  boy 
whose  heroes  were  the  two  master-thieves,  Ola 
Holland  and  Gjest  Baardsen,  that  must  have  been  a 
terribly  arduous  necessity.  However,  he  submitted 
with  bad  grace,  and  was  enrolled  as  a  pupil  at  the 
gymnasium  in  Bergen.  Here  his  Finnish  Hyde 
promptly  got  him  into  trouble.  Having  by  sheer 
ill  luck  been  cheated  of  his  chances  of  a  heroic 
career,  he  began  to  imagine  in  detail  the  potential- 
ities of  greatness  for  the  loss  of  which  Fate  owed 
him  reparation.  And  so  absorbed  did  he  become 
in  this  game  of  fancy,  and  so  enamored  was  he  of 
his  own  imaginary  deeds,  that  he  lost  sight  of  the 
fact  that  they  were  of  the  stuff  that  dreams  are 
made  of.  With  frank  and  innocent  trustfulness  he 
told  them  to  his  friends,  both  young  and  old,  and 
soon  earned  a  reputation  as  a  most  unblushing 
liar.  But  if  any  one  dared  call  him  that  to  his 
face,  he  had  to  reckon  with  an  awe-inspiring  pair 
of  fists  which  were  wielded  with  equal  precision 
and  force.  The  youth,  being  at  variance  with  the 
world,   lived   in  a  state  of  intermittent  warfare. 


JONAS  LIE  129 

and  he  gave  and  received  valiant  blows^  upon 
which  he  yet  looks  back  with  satisfaction. 

In  spite  of  his  distaste  for  books  Jonas  Lie 
managed^  when  he  was  eighteen  years  old,  to  pass 
the  entrance  examination  to  the  University. 
Among  his  schoolmates  during  his  last  year  of 
preparation  at  Heltberg's  Gymnasium,  in  Christi- 
ania,  were  Bjornstjerne  Bjornson  and  Henrik 
Ibsen.  The  former  took  a  great  interest  in  the 
odd,  naive,  near-sighted  Nordlander  who  walked 
his  own  ways,  thought  his  own  thoughts,  and  ac- 
cepted ridicule  with  crushing  indifference. 

"  I  was  going  about  there  in  Christiania,^^  he 
says  in  a  published  letter  to  Bjornson,  ^'  as  a  young 
student,  undeveloped,  dim,  and  unclear — a  kind 
of  poetic  visionary,  a  Nordland  twilight  nature — 
which  after  a  fashion  espied  what  was  abroad  in 
the  age,  but  indistinctly  in  the  dusk,  as  through  a 
water  telescope — when  I  met  a  young,  clear,  full- 
born  force,  pregnant  with  the  nation's  new  day, 
the  blue  steel-flash  of  determination  in  his  eyes 
and  the  happily  found  national  form — j)ugnacious 
to  the  very  point  of  his  pen.  I  gazed  and  stared, 
fascinated,  and  took  this  new  thing  aboard  along 
the  whole  gunwale.  Here,  I  felt,  were  definite 
forms,  no  mere  dusk  and  fantastic  haze — some- 
thing to  fashion  into  poetry.  .  .  .  From  the 
first  hour  you  knew  how  to  look  straight  into  this 
strange  twilight  of  mine,  and  you  espied  flashes  of 
the  aurora  there  when  no  one  else  did,  like  the 
true  and  faithful  friend  you  are.  You  helped  and 
9 


1 30  SCANDINA  VI AN  LITERA  TURE 

guided  and  found  grains  of  gold,  where  otliers  saw 
mostly  nonsense,  and  perhaps  half  a  screw  loose. 
While  I  was  straying  in  search  of  the  spiritual  tin- 
sel, with  which  the  esprits  forts  of  the  age  were 
glittering,  you  taught  me,  and  impressed  upon  me, 
again  and  again,  that  I  had  to  seek  in  myself  for 
whatever  I  might  possess  of  sentiment  and  sim- 
plicity— and  that  it  was  out  of  this  I  would  have 
to  build  my  fiction." 

This  bit  of  confession  is  extremely  significant. 
The  Finnish  Hyde  was  evidently  yet  uppermost. 
Bjornson  taught  Lie  to  distrust  the  tinsel  glitter 
of  mere  rhetoric,  and.  the  fantastic  exuberance  of 
invention  in  which  the  young  Nordlander  believed 
that  he  had  his/or^e.  But  the  matter  had  even  a 
more  serious  phase  than  this.  It  was  about  this 
time  that  Lie  disappeared  for  a  period  of  three 
months  from  his  friends,  and  even  his  parents,  and 
when  again  he  emerged  into  the  daylight,  he  could 
give  no  account  of  himself.  He  had  simply  saun- 
tered about,  moping  and  dreaming.  He  had  been 
Hyde.  The  cold  shudders  which  lurked  in  his 
blood  from  the  long,  legend-haunted  arctic  night 
could  break  into  open  terror  on  unforeseen  occa- 
sions. Grown  man  though  he  was,  he  was  afraid 
of  being  alone  in  the  dark — a  peculiarity  which 
once  got  him  into  a  comical  predicament. 

It  was  his  habit  when  travelling  to  place  his  big 
top-boots  at  night  within  easy  reach,  so  that  he 
might  use  them  as  weapons  against  any  ghost  or 
suspicious-looking  object  that  might  be  stirring  in 


JO.VAS  LIE  131 

the  gloom.  One  evening  when  he  had  gone  to  bed 
at  a  country  inn,  he  was  aroused  from  his  sleep 
and  saw  indistinctly  a  white  phenomenon  flutter- 
ing to  and  fro  along  the  opposite  wall.  Instantly 
he  grabs  a  boot  and  hurls  it  with  ferocious  force  at 
the  goblin.  A  roar  was  heard  followed  by  a  salvo 
of  blue  profanity.  It  was  a  fellow-traveller — a 
lumber-dealer — who  was  to  occupy  the  other  bed 
in  the  room.  He  had  undressed  and  was  disport- 
ing himself  in  nocturnal  attire  before  reposing, 
when  Jonas  Lie^s  well-aimed  missile  hit  him  in  the 
stomach  and  doubled  him  up  with  pain. 

A  skeleton  in  the  den  of  a  medical  friend  caused 
Lie  many  a  shiver,  for  he  could  never  quite  rid 
himself  of  the  idea  that  it  moved.  All  that  lay 
beyond  the  range  of  the  senses  drew  him  with  an 
irresistible,  half -shuddering  attraction  ;  and  he 
resented  all  attempts  to  explain  it  by  ordinary 
mundane  laws.  As  his  first  novel  abundantly 
proves,  he  possesses  in  a  marked  degree  the  "  sixth 
sense  "  that  gropes  eagerly  and  with  a  half-terrified 
fascination  in  the  dusk  that  lies  beyond  the  day- 
light of  the  other  five. 

The  verses  which  Jonas  Lie  began  about  this 
time  to  produce  are  mostly  written  for  patriotic 
and  other  festive  occasions,  and  therefore  arouse 
no  creepy  sensations.  But  they  are  so  overladen 
with  confusing  imagery  that  they  have  to  be  read 
twice  to  be  understood.  In  the  poem  "  Solveig  " 
(1855)  he  makes  the  heart  *Mn  its  prison  envy  the 
free-born  thoughts  which  fly  to  the  beloved  one's 


132  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

breast."  His  versification  is  gnarled  and  twisted, 
and  a  perpetual  strain  upon  the  ear.  As  Mr.  Nor- 
dalil  Rolfsen  has  remarked,  one  need  not  be  a 
princess  in  order  to  be  troubled  by  the  peas  in  his 
verse.*  Browning  himself  could  scarcely  have 
perpetrated  more  unmelodious  lines  than  Jonas 
Lie  is  capable  of.  Nevertheless  there  is  often  in 
his  patriotic  songs  a  most  inspiriting  bugle-note, 
which  is  found  nowhere  in  Browning,  unless  it  be 
in  the  '^  Cavalier  Tunes."  The  curiosities  of  his 
prosody  are  (according  to  his  biographer)  attribut- 
able to  the  Nordland  accent  in  his  speech.  They 
would  sound  all  right,  he  says,  to  a  Nordland  ear. 
At  the  risk  of  violating  chronology  I  may  as 
well  speak  here  of  his  two  collections  of  "  Poems  " 
(1867  and  1889)  (the  latter  being  an  expurgated  but 
enlarged  edition  of  the  earlier),  to  which  the  pres- 
ent criticisms  particularly  apply.  Both  editions 
contain  notable  things  amid  occasional  bits  of  what 
scarcely  rises  above  doggerel.  The  sailor  songs, 
though  rough,  are  true  in  tone  and  have  a  catch- 
ing nautical  swing  ;  but  of  far  deeper  ring  and 
more  intensely  felt  are  the  poems  which  deal  with 
the  nocturnal  sides  of  nature.  These  have  at 
times  a  strange,  shivering  resonance,  like  an  old 
violin  whose  notes  ripple  down  your  spine.  I  re- 
fer especially  to  such  untranslatable  poems  as 
"Draugen,"  "  Finn-Shot,"  "  The  Mermaid,"  and 
"  Nightmare."  The  mood  of  these  is  heavy  and 
uncanny,   like  that  of  the   "■  Ancient  Mariner." 

*  Nordahl  Rolfsen  :  Norske  Digtere,  p.  527. 


JONAS  LIE  133 

But  tliey  are  indubitably  poetry.  It  is  by  no 
means  sure  that  the  world  has  not  lost  a  poet  in 
Jonas  Lie  ;  but  probably  a  lesser  one  than  the 
novelist  that  it  gained. 

As  Jonas  had  been  voted  by  his  kin  the  family 
dullard,  it  was  decided  to  make  a  clergyman  of 
him.  But  to  this  the  young  man  objected,  chiefly, 
according  to  his  own  story,  because  the  clerical 
gown  looks  too  much  like  a  petticoat.  At  all 
events,  after  having  equipped  himself  with  a  set 
of  theological  tomes,  and  peeped  cursorily  into 
them,  he  grew  so  discouraged  that  he  went  to  the 
bookseller  and  exchanged  them  for  a  set  of  law- 
books. Not  that  the  law  had  any  peculiar  attrac- 
tion for  him  ;  he  rather  accepted  it  as  a  ins  oiler  ; 
for,  of  course,  he  had  to  study  something.  In  duo 
time  he  was  graduated,  but  with  such  poor  stand- 
ing that  he  concluded  to  put  in  another  year  and 
try  again.  And  this  time  he  managed  to  acquit 
himself  creditably.  He  then  began  (1859)  the 
practice  of  the  law  in  the  little  town  of  Kongsvin- 
ger,  the  centre  of  the  richest  lumber  districts  in 
Norway.  But  in  the  meanwhile  he  had  had  an 
experience  of  another  kind  which  is  worth  recount- 
ing. 

From  his  boyhood  he  had  been  a  worshipper  of 
the  fair  sex.  Marriages  (of  other  peojjle)  had  been 
among  the  most  tragic  events  in  his  life  ;  and  he 
rarely  failed  to  shed  tears  at  the  thought  that  now 
this  lovely  charmer,  too,  was  removed  from  the 
number  of  his  possible  selections.     If  things  went 


1 34  SCANDINA  VI AN  LITER  A  TURE 

Oil  in  tliis  way  lie  would  have  no  clioice  but  to  be 
a  bachelor.  However,  one  fine  day  a  most  attrac- 
tive-looking craft,  bearing  the  name  Thomasine 
Lie,  appeared  upon  his  horizon,  sailed  within 
speaking  distance,  and  presently  a  great  deal  near- 
er. In  fact,  though  they  were  cousins,  it  took  a 
remarkably  short  time  for  the  two  young  ]people  to 
discover  that  they  loved  each  other ;  and  when 
that  discovery  was  made,  they  acted  upon  it  with 
laudable  promptitude.  They  became  engaged ;  and 
were  subsequently  married.  And  from  that  day 
the  Finnish  Hyde  in  Jonas  was  downed  and  re- 
duced to  permanent  subjection.  He  never  raised 
his  head  again.  The  more  sober-minded,  industri- 
ous, and  sensible  Norse  Jekyll  took  command  and 
steered  with  a  steady  hand,  in  fair  weather  and 
foul,  and  often  through  dangerous  waters,  the 
barque  Jonas  Lie,  which  came  to  carry  more  and 
more  passengers  the  longer  it  proceeded  on  its 
voyage. 

Truth  to  tell,  I  know  among  contemporary  men 
of  letters  no  more  complete,  happy,  and  altogether 
beautiful  marriage  than  that  of  Jonas  and  Thoma- 
sine Lie.  The  nearest  parallel  to  it  that  I  can 
think  of  is  that  of  John  Stuart  Mill  and  Mrs.  Tay- 
lor, who  later  became  Mrs.  Mill. 

Lie's  friends  accuse  him  of  carrying  his  admira- 
tion of  his  wife  to  the  verge  of  idolatry.  He  will 
leave  himself  but  little  merit,  but  with  an  air  of 
candid  conviction  he  attributes  even  his  authorship 
to  his   Thomasine.     "  Her  name  ought  to   stand 


JONAS  LIE  135 

next  to  mine  on  the  title-pages  of  my  books/^  he 
has  repeatedly  declared.  And  again,  "If  I  have 
written  anything  that  is  good,  tlien  my  wife  de- 
serves as  much  credit  for  it  as  myself. 
Without  her  nothing  would  have  come  of  it  except 
nonsense." 

Even  though  that  may  be  an  exaggeration,  pure 
delusion  it  is  not.  For  Mrs.  Lie  is,  in  a  certain 
way,  the  complement  to  her  husband.  She  pos- 
sesses what  he  has  not ;  and  he  possesses  what  she, 
in  her  modest  self-extinction,  would  never  dream 
of  laying  claim  to.  The  spirit  of  order,  adjust- 
ment, and  lucidity  is  strong  in  her  ; "while  he,  in  his 
fanciful  exuberance,  is  often  overwhelmed  by  his 
material,  and  is  unable  to  get  it  into  shape.  Then 
she  quietly  steps  in  and  separates  the  dry  land  from 
the  water  in  his  seething  and  struggling  chaos. 
She  is  one  of  those  rare  women  who,  while  appar- 
ently only  listening,  can  give  you  back  your  own 
thoughts  clarified.  Mr.  Garborg  relates  most 
charmingly  how  she  straightens  out  the  tangles  in 
her  husband's  plots,  and  unobtrusively  draws  him 
back,  when,  as  frequently  happens,  he  has  switched 
himself  off  on  a  side-line  and  is  unable  to  recover-' 
his  bearings.  And  this  occurs  as  often  in  his  con- 
versation as  in  his  manuscripts,  which  he  never 
despatches  to  the  publisher  without  her  revision. 
She  helps  him  condense.  She  knows  just  what  to 
omit.  Yet  she  does  not  pretend  to  be  in  the  least 
literary.  Her  proper  department,  in  which  she  is 
also  a  shining  success,  is  the  care  of  her  children 


1 3  6  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LIT  ERA  TURE 

and  the  superintendeuce  of  her  household.  She 
understands  to  perfection  the  art  of  economy  and 
has  a  keen  practical  sense,  which  makes  her  ad- 
mirably competent  in  all  the  more  diflBcult  situa- 
tions in  life.  And  he,  feeling  her  competence  and 
his  own  deficiency,  frankly  leans  on  her.  Hence  a 
certain  motherliness  on  her  part  (most  beautiful  to 
behold)  has  tinged  their  relation  ;  and  on  his  an 
admiring  and  affectionate  dependence.  Each  prizes 
in  the  other  what  he  himself  lacks  ;  and  the  hus- 
band's genius  loses  none  of  its  brightness  to  the 
wife,  because  it  is  herself  who  trims  the  wick  and 
adjusts  the  reflectors  which  send  its  light  abroad. 

I  have  again  anticipated,  because  the  subsequent 
career  of  Jonas  Lie  could  not  be  properly  under- 
stood without  a  full  appreciation  of  the  new  factor 
which  from  this  time  enters  into  it.  He  develoiDed 
signal  ability  as  a  lawyer  during  the  years  of  his 
practice  at  Kongsvinger  ;  became  prosperous  and 
influential,  bought  a  considerable  estate  (called 
Sigridnaes)  and  began  to  dabble  in  politics.  He 
still  wrote  occasional  poems,  and  was  the  soul  of 
all  conviviality  in  the  town.  He  entertained  celeb- 
rities, wrote  political  leaders  in  the  papers,  earned 
a  great  deal  of  money,  lived  high,  and  unfolded  a 
restless  and  widely  ramified  activity.  Then  came 
the  great  financial  crisis  of  1867-68,  which  swept 
away  so  many  great  fortunes  in  Norway.  Lie  be- 
came involved  (chiefly  by  endorsement  of  commer- 
cial paper)  to  the  extent  of  several  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars.     He  gave  up  everything  he  had,  and 


JONAS  LIE  137 

moved  to  Christiania,  resolved  to  j^ay  tlie  enor- 
mous debt,  for  which  he  had  incurred  legal  respon- 
sibility, to  the  last  farthing.  Quixotic  as  it  may 
seem,  it  was  his  intention  to  accomplish  this  by 
novel-writing.  And  to  his  honor  be  it  said  that 
for  a  long  series  of  years  he  kept  sending  every 
penny  he  could  spare,  above  the  barest  uecessities, 
to  his  creditors,  refusing  to  avail  himself  of  the 
bankruptcy  law  and  accept  a  compromise.  But  it 
was  a  bottomless  pit  into  which  he  was  throwing 
his  hard-earned  pennies,  and  in  the  end  he  had  to 
yield  to  the  persuasions  of  his  family  and  abandon 
the  hopeless  enterprise. 

In  Christiania  he  sjaent  some  hard  and  penuri- 
ous years,  trying  to  make  a  livelihood  as  a  jour- 
nalist and  man  of  letters.  Some  of  his  friends 
suspected  that  the  Lie  family  were  subsisting  on 
very  short  rations  ;  but  they  were  proud,  and 
there  was  no  way  to  help  them.  The  ex-lawyer 
developed  ultra-democratic  sympathies,  and  time 
and  again  his  Thomasine  led  the  dance  at  the  balls 
of  the  Laborers'  Union  with  Mr.  Eilert  Sundt.* 
A  position  as  teacher  of  Norwegian  in  Heltberg's 
Gymnasium  he  lost  because  he  only  made  orations 
to  his  pupils,  but  taught  them  no  rhetoric.  His 
volume  of  ''  Poems  "  (1867)  had  attracted  no  par- 
ticular attention ;  but  his  political  articles  were 
much  read  and  discussed.  However,  it  was  not  in 
politics  that  he  was  to  win  his  laurels. 

*  A  well-known  Norwegian  philanthropist,  whose  work  on  the 
Gypsies  is  highly  regarded. 


138  SCANDINA  VI AN  LITERA TURE 

A  little  before  Christmas,  1870,  there  appeared 
from  Gyldendal's  publishing-house  in  Copenhagen 
a  novel,  entitled  "  The  Visionary "  {Den  Frem- 
synte),  by  Jonas  Lie.  To  analyze  the  impression 
which  this  strange  book  makes  at  the  first  read- 
ing is  difficult.  I  thought,  as  I  sat  rejoicing  in 
its  vivid  light  and  color,  twenty-four  years  ago  : 
"  This  Jonas  Lie  is  a  sort  of  century-plant,  and 
'  The  Visionary '  is  his  one  blossom.  It  is  the  one 
good  novel  which  almost  every  life  is  said  to  con- 
tain. Only  this  is  so  strikingly  good  that  it  is  a 
pity  it  will  have  no  successors." 

It  was  evidently  himself,  or  rather  the  Finn- 
ish part  of  himself,  the  author  was  exploring  ;  it 
was  in  the  mine  of  his  own  experience  he  was 
delving  ;  it  was  his  own  heart  he  was  coining. 
That  may,  in  a  sense,  be  true  of  every  book  of 
any  consequence  ;  but  it  was  most  emphatically 
true  of  "  The  Visionary."  It  is  not  to  the  use  of 
the  first  person  that  this  autobiographical  note  is 
primarily  due  ;  but  to  a  certain  beautiful  intimacy 
in  the  narrative,  and  a  naive  confidence  which 
charms  the  reader  and  takes  him  captive.  With  a 
lavish  hand  Lie  has  drawn  upon  the  memories  of 
his  boyhood  in  the  arctic  North  ;  and  it  was  the 
newness  of  the  nature  Avliich  he  revealed,  no  less 
than  the  picturesque  force  of  his  language,  which 
contributed  in  no  small  degree  to  the  success  of 
his  book.  But,  above  all,  it  was  the  sweetness 
and  pathos  of  the  exquisite  love  story.  Susanna, 
though  as  to  talents  not  much  above  the  common- 


JOiVAS  LIE  139 

place,  is  ravishing.  To  have  breathed  the  breath 
of  such  warm  and  living  life  into  a  character  of 
fiction  is  no  small  achievement.  It  is  the  loveli- 
ness of  love,  the  sweetness  of  womanhood,  the  glo- 
rious ferment  of  the  blood  in  the  human  spring- 
tide which  are  celebrated  in  ''  The  Visionary." 
The  thing  is  beautifully  done.  I  do  not  know 
where  young  love  has  been  more  touchingly  por- 
trayed, unless  it  be  in  some  of  the  Russian  tales  of 
Tourgueneff.*  The  second-sight  with  which  the 
hero,  David  Hoist,  is  afflicted,  introduces  an  un- 
dertone of  sadness  —  a  pensive  minor  key  —  and 
seems  to  necessitate  the  tragic  denouement. 

The  immediate  success  of  "The  Visionary" 
changed  Jonas  Lie's  situation  and  prospects.  He 
was  first  sent  with  a  public  stipend  to  Nordland 
for  the  purpose  of  studying  the  character,  man- 
ners, and  economic  condition  of  the  dwellers  within 
the  polar  zone  ;  and,  like  the  conscientious  man  he 
is,  he  made  an  exhaustive  report  to  the  proper 
department,  detailing  with  touching  minuteness 
the  results  of  his  observations.  The  Norwegian 
government  has  always  taken  a  strong  (and  usually 
very  intelligent)  interest  in  rising  artists,  musi- 
cians, and  men  of  letters,  and  has  endeavored  by 
stipends  and  salaries  to  compensate  them  for  the 
smallness  of  the  public  which  the  country  affords. 
Jonas  Lie  was  now  a  sufficiently  conspicuous  man 
to  come  into  consideration  in  the  distribution  of 
the  official  panem  et  ci?'censes.     The  state  awarded 

*  Spring  Floods,  Liza,  Faust. 


1 40     SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

him  a  largess  of  1400  for  one  year  (twice  renewed), 
in  order  to  enable  him  to  go  to  Italy  and  "  edu- 
cate himself  for  a  poet ;  "  and  he  was  also  made  a 
beneficiary  of  the  well-known  Schafer  legacy  for 
the  training  of  artists.  In  the  autumn  of  1871  he 
started  with  his  wife  and  four  children  for  Eome. 
It  was  in  a  solemnly  festal  frame  of  mind  that  he 
now  resolved  to  devote  the  rest  of  his  life  to  his 
real  vocation,  which  at  last  he  had  found.  This 
was  what  they  had  all  meant — his  gropings,  trials, 
and  failures.  They  had  all  fitted  him  for  the  life- 
work  which  was  now  to  be  his.  The  Avorld  lay 
before  him  as  in  the  shining  calm  after  storm. 

He  took  his  artistic  training,  as  everything  else, 
with  extreme  seriousness.  With  the  utmost  con- 
scientiousness he  started  out  with  his  Thomasine, 
morning  after  morning,  to  study  the  Vatican  and 
the  Capitoline  collections.  ''  Happy  is  the  man," 
says  Goethe,  ''  who  learns  early  in  life  what  art 
means."  But  Jonas  Lie  was  thirty-eight  years 
old  ;  and,  as  far  as  I  can  judge  from  his  writings, 
I  should  venture  to  say  that  the  secret  of  classical 
art  has  never  been  unlocked  to  him.  It  lies  prob- 
ably rather  remote  from  the  sphere  of  his  sensa- 
tions. His  genius  is  so  profoundly  Germanic  that 
only  an  ill-wisher  would  covet  for  him  that  expan- 
sion of  vision  which  would  enable  him  to  perceive 
with  any  degree  of  artistic  realization  and  intimacy 
the  glorious  serenity  of  the  Juno  Ludovisi  and  the 
divine  distinction  of  the  Apollo  Belvedere. 

The  two  books  which  were  the   first-fruits  of 


JONAS  LIE  141 

the  "Roman  sojourn  were  a  disappointment  to  his 
friends,  though  in  tlie  case  of  tlie  uujd retentions 
collection  called  ''  Tales  and  Sketches  from  Nord- 
land  '*'  (1872)  there  is  no  reason  why  it  should 
have  been.  The  public  found  that  it  was  not  on 
a  level  with  "  The  Visionary/'  and  by  "  The  Vi- 
sionary'' Jonas  Lie  was  bound  to  be  judged, 
whether  he  liked  it  or  not.  That  is  the  penalty 
of  having  produced  a  masterpiece,  that  one  is 
never  permitted  to  follow  the  example  of  bonus 
Homerus,  who,  as  every  one  knows,  sometimes 
nods.  Jonas  Lie  was  far  from  nodding  in  "  The 
Barque  Future"  (1872).  There  was  an  abun- 
dance of  interest  in  the  material,  and  a  delightful 
picturesque  vigor  in  the  descriptions  of  nature. 
But  of  romantic  interest  of  the  kind  which  the 
ordinary  novel-reader  craves,  there  was  very  little. 
Apropos  of  "  The  Barque  Future"  let  me  quote  a 
bit  of  general  characterization  which  applies  to 
nearly  all  the  subsequent  works  of  Jonas  Lie. 

*'  It  is  in  this  particular  that  Jonas  Lie  most 
distinctly  diverges  from  all  romanticism  and  ro- 
mance-writing :  His  interest  in  practical  affairs, 
his  ability  to  see  poetry  in  that  which  is  contem- 
porary. The  sawdust  in  the  rivers  has  never 
offended  him,  nor  the  Briton's  black  cloud  of  coal- 
smoke.  The  busy  toil  of  office  and  shop  is  not 
prose  to  him.  He  penetrates  to  the  bottom  of  its 
meaning — its  significance  to  civilization,"* 

''  The  Barque  Future  "  is,  as  regards  its  prob- 

*  Arne  Garborg  :  Jonas  Lie,  p.  172, 


1 42  SCANDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

leni;,  Gustav  Ereytag's  Soil  und  Hdben  (''  De- 
bit and  Credif )  transferred  to  Nordland.  In- 
stead of  the  noble  house  of  Rothsattel  we  have  the 
ancient  and  highly  esteemed  commercial  firm  of 
Heggelund,  whose  chief  falls  into  the  toils  of  the 
scoundrel,  Stuwitz,  very  much  as  Baron  Eothsat- 
tel  was  dragged  to  ruin  by  the  Jew  Veitel  Itzig. 
But  no  more  than  Freytag  can  find  it  in  his  heart 
to  award  the  victory  to  the  Hebrew  usurer,  can 
Lie  violate  the  proprieties  of  fiction  by  permitting 
Stuwitz  to  fatten  on  his  spoil.  He  could  not,  like 
the  German  novelist,  conjure  up  a  noble  gentle- 
man of  democratic  sympathies  and  practical  abil- 
ity (like  von  Finck)  and  make  him  emerge  in  the 
nick  of  time  as  the  heir  of  the  ancient  gentry, 
justifying  the  dignities  which  he  enjoys  in  the 
state  by  the  uses  which  he  fulfils.  In  Norway 
there  is  no  nobility ;  and  Lie,  therefore,  had  to 
make  his  able  and  industrious  plebeian,  Morten 
Jonsen  (the  equivalent  of  Anton  Wohlfahrt  in 
Soil  und  Hciben)  the  inheritor  of  the  future.  He 
accordingly  awards  to  him  the  hand  of  Miss  Edele 
Heggelund ;  but  not  until  he  has  put  Jacob  to 
shame  by  the  amount  and  character  of  the  work  by 
which  he  earns  his  Rachel. 

The  reception  of  ^'  The  Barque  Future "  was 
far  from  satisfactory  to  its  author.  He  grew  ap- 
prehensive about  himself.  He  could  not  afford 
another  failure ;  nay,  not  even  a  succes  d'estime. 
Accordingly  he  waited  two  years,  and  published  in 
1874  "  The  Pilot  and  his  Wife,''  which  made  its 


JONAS  LIE  143 

mark.  It  is  an  every-day  story  in  the  best  sense 
of  the  word,  the  history  of  a  marriage  among  com- 
mon folk.  And  yet  so  true  is  it,  so  permeated 
with  a  warm  and  rich  humanity,  that  it  holds  the 
reader's  attention  from  beginning  to  end.  Then, 
to  add  to  its  interest,  it  has  some  bearing  upon  the 
woman  question.  Lie  maintains  that  no  true  mar- 
riage can  exist  where  the  wife  sacrifices  her  per- 
sonality, and  submits  without  a  protest  to  neglect 
and  ill-treatment.  Happily  we  are  not  particular- 
ly in  need  of  that  admonition  on  our  side  of  the 
ocean.  The  wife  of  the  pilot.  Salve  Christensen, 
had  once  broken  her  engagement  with  him,  having 
become  enamored  of  the  handsome  naval  lieuten- 
ant. Beck  ;  but  she  recovers  her  senses  and  mar- 
ries Christensen,  whom  she  really  loves.  After  her 
marriage  she  tries  to  do  penance  for  the  wrong  she 
has  done  him  by  being,  as  she  fancies,  a  model 
wife.  But  by  submission  and  self -extinction,  so 
alien  to  her  character,  she  arouses  his  suspicion 
that  she  has  something  on  her  conscience  ;  and,  in 
his  feeling  of  outrage,  he  begins  to  neglect  and 
abuse  her.  When,  at  last,  his  maltreatment 
reaches  a  climax,  she  arises  in  all  the  dignity  of 
her  womanhood,  and  asserts  her  true  self.  Then 
comes  reconciliation,  followed  by  a  united  life  of 
true  equality  and  loving  comradeship. 

Such  a  mere  skeleton  of  a  plot  can,  of  course, 
give  no  conception  of  the  wealth  of  vivid  details 
with  which  the  book  abounds.  There  is,  however, 
a  certain  air  of  effort  about  it,  of  a  strenuous  ss- 


1 44  SCA  NDINA  I  ''I A  N  LITER  A  TURE 

riousness,  which  is^  I  fancy,  the  temperamental 
note  of  this  anther. 

"The  Pilot  and  his  Wife  "  besides  reviving  Lie's 
popularity  also  served  to  define  his  position  in 
Norwegian  literature.  He  had  at  first  been  as- 
signed a  definite  corner  as  the  ''  poet  of  Nordland/^ 
but  his  ambition  was  not  satisfied  with  so  narrow  a 
province.  In  all  his  tales,  so  far,  he  has  surpassed 
all  predecessors  in  his  descriptions  of  the  sea  ;  and 
the  critics,  when  favorably  disposed,  fell  into  the 
habit  of  referring  to  him  as  "  the  novelist  of  the 
sea,"  "the  poet  of  the  ocean,"  etc.  The  Norwe- 
gian sailor,  whom  he  may  be  said  to  have  revealed 
in  "  The  Pilot,"  came  to  be  considered  more  and 
more  as  his  property  ;  and  no  one  can  read  such 
tales  as  "  Press  On  "  {Gaa  Paa)  and  "  Eutland" 
without  agreeing  that  the  title  is  well  merited.  I 
know  of  no  English  novelist  since  Smollett,  who 
produces  so  deep  a  sense  of  reality  in  his  descrip- 
tions of  maritime  life.  Mr.  Clark  Russell,  who 
knows  his  ship  from  masthead  to  keel  as  thor- 
oughly as  Jonas  Lie,  and  writes  fully  as  clever  a 
story,  seems  to  me  to  have  a  lower  aim,  in  so 
far  as  the  novel  of  adventure,  cmteris  paribus, 
belongs  on  a  lower  level  than  the  novel  of  char- 
acter. 

In  the  year  1874  the  Norwegian  Storthing  con- 
ferred upon  Jonas  Lie  an  annual  "poet's  salary" 
of  about  six  hundred  dollars.  This  is  supposed  to 
supply  a  warranty  deed  to  a  lot  on  Parnassus.  It 
removes  any  possible  flaw  in  the  title  to  immortal- 


JONAS  LIE  145 

ity.  Lie  was  now  lifted  into  the  illustrious  trium- 
virate in  which  Bjornson  and  Ibsen  were  his  pre- 
decessors. Great  expectations  were  entertained  of 
his  literary  future.  But,  oddly  enough,  this  official 
recognition  did  not  have  a  favorable  effect  upon 
Lie.  He  felt  himself  almost  oppressed  by  a  sense 
of  obligation  to  yield  full  returns  for  what  he  con- 
sumed of  the  public  revenues.  In  1875  he  pub- 
lished a  versified  tale,  "  Faustina  Strozzi/'  dealing 
with  the  struggle  for  Italian  liberty.  In  spite  of 
many  excellences  it  fell  rather  flat,  and  was 
roughly  handled  by  the  critics.  Even  a  worse 
fate  befell  its  successor,  "Thomas  Ross"  (1878), 
a  novel  of  contemporary  life  in  the  Norwegian 
capital.  It  is  a  pale,  and  rather  labored  story,  in 
which  a  young  girl,  of  the  Rosamond  Vincy  type, 
is  held  up  to  scorn,  and  the  atrocity  of  flirtation 
is  demonstrated  by  the  most  tragic  consequences. 
There  is  likewise  an  air  of  triviality  about  ''  Adam 
Schrader"  (1879) ;  and  Lie  became  seriously  alarmed 
about  himself  when  he  had  to  register  a  third  fail- 
ure. Like  its  predecessor,  this  book  is  full  of 
keen  observations,  and  the  sketches  of  the  social 
futilities  and  the  typical  characters  at  a  summer 
watering-place  are  surely  good  enough  to  pass 
muster.  But,  somehow,  the  material  fails  to  com- 
bine into  a  sufficiently  coherent  and  impressive 
picture  ;  and  the  total  effect  remains  rather  feeble. 
In  a  drama,  "  Grabow's  Cat"  (1880),  he  suffered 
shipwreck  once  more,  though  he  saved  something 
from  the  waves.    The  play  was  performed  'v.  Chris- 


146  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

tiania  and  Stockholm,  and  aroused  interest,  but 
not  enough  to  keep  it  afloat. 

It  has  been  said  of  Browning  that  he  succeeded 
by  a  series  of  faihires,  which  meant,  in  his  case, 
that  his  books  failed  to  command  instant  atten- 
tion, but  were  gradually  discovered  by  the  thought- 
ful few  who  by  their  appreciation  spread  the  poet's 
fame  among  the  thoughtless  many.  It  was  not  in 
this  way  that  Jonas  Lie's  failures  conduced  to  his 
final  success.  "  Thomas  Ross,"  "  Adam  Schrader," 
and  '' Grabow's  Cat"  have  not  grown  perceptibly 
in  the  estimation  either  of  the  critics  or  of  the 
public  since  their  first  appearance.  But  they  sup- 
plied their  author  a  hard  but  needed  discipline. 
They  warned  him  against  over  -  confidence  and 
routine  work.  He  had  passed  through  a  soul-try- 
ing experience,  in  its  effect  not  unlike  the  one 
which  Keats  describes  a  jpropos  of  "■  Endymion  : " 

"^In  '^ Endymion'  I  leaped  headlong  into  the  sea 
and  thereby  have  become  better  acquainted  with 
the  soundings,  the  quicksands,  and  the  rocks  than 
if  I  had  stayed  upon  the  green  shore,  took  tea  and 
comfortable  advice.  I  was  never  afraid  of  failure — 
I  would  rather  fail  than  not  be  among  the  greatest." 

Jonas  Lie  reconquered  at  one  stroke  all  that  he 
had  lost,  by  the  delightful  sea-novel  "  Rutland " 
(1881),  and  reinstated  himself  still  more  securely 
in  the  hearts  of  an  admiring  public  by  the  breezy 
tale,  '' Press  On  "  (1882).  But  after  so  protracted 
a  sea- voyage  he  began  to  long  for  the  shore,  where, 
up  to  date  he  had  suffered  all  his  reverses.    It  could 


JONAS  LIE  147 

not  be  that  he  who  had  lived  all  his  life  on  terra 
firma,  and  was  so  profoundly  interested  in  the  prob- 
lems of  modern  society,  should  be  banished  forever, 
like  "  The  Man  Without  a  Country,"  to  the  briny 
deep,  and  be  debarred  from  describing  the  things 
which  he  had  most  at  heart.  One  more  attempt  he 
was  bound  to  make,  even  at  the  risk  of  another  fail- 
ure. Accordingly  in  1883  appeared  "The  Life 
Prisoner"  {Hvsslaven),  which  deserved  abetter  fate 
than  befell  it.  The  critics  found  it  depressing,  com- 
pared it  to  Zola,  and  at  the  same  time  scolded  the 
author  because  he  lacked  indignation  and  neg- 
lected to  denounce  the  terrible  conditions  which 
he  described.  He  replied  to  their  arraignments  in 
an  angry  but  very  effective  letter.  But  that  did 
not  save  the  book.  Truth  to  tell,  "  The  Life 
Prisoner"  is  a  dismal  tale.  It  was,  in  fact,  the 
irruption  of  modern  naturalism  into  Norwegian 
literature.  It  reminds  one  in  its  tone  more  of 
Dostoyevski's  "Crime  and  Punishment"  than  of 
"  L'Assommoir."  For  to  my  mind  Dostoyevski  is 
a  greater  exponent  of  naturalism  than  Zola,  whom 
Lemaitre  not  inaptly  styles  "an  epic  poet."  The 
pleasing  and  well-bred  truths  or  lies,  to  the  ex- 
pounding of  which  helles  lettres  had  hitherto  been 
confined,  were  here  discarded  or  ignored.  The 
author  had  taken  a  plunge  into  the  great  dumb 
deep  of  the  nethermost  social  strata,  which  he  has 
explored  with  admirable  conscientiousness  and  ar- 
tistic perception.  Few  men  of  letters  would  ob- 
ject to  being  the  father  of  so  creditable  a  failure. 


148  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

Lie,  being  convinced  that  liis  book  was  a  good  one, 
no  matter  what  the  wielders  of  critical  tomahawks 
might  say  to  the  contrary,  resolved  to  persevere  in 
tlie  line  he  had  chosen  and  to  pluck  victory  from 
the  heels  of  defeat.  And  the  victory  came  even  the 
same  year  (1883),  when  he  published  what,  to  my 
mind,  is  the  most  charming  of  all  his  novels,  ''  The 
Family  at  Gilje."  That  is  a  book  which  is  taken, 
warm  and  quivering,  out  of  the  very  heart  of  Nor- 
way. The  humor  which  had  been  cropping  out 
tentatively  in  Lie's  earlier  tales  comes  here  to  its 
full  right,  and  his  shy,  beautiful  pathos  gleams 
like  hidden  tears  behind  his  genial  smile.  It  is 
close  wrought  cloth  of  gold.  No  loosely  woven 
spots — no  shoddy  woof  of  cheaper  material.  Cap- 
tain Jaeger  and  his  wife,  Inger-Johanna,  Jorgen, 
Grip,  nay,  the  whole  company  of  sober,  everyday 
mortals  that  come  trooj^ing  through  its  chapters 
are  so  delightfully  human  that  you  feel  the  blood 
pulse  under  their  skin  at  the  first  touch.  It  is  a 
triumph  indeed,  to  have  written  a  book  like  "  The 
Family  at  Gilje." 

From  this  time  forth  Jonas  Lie's  career  presents 
an  unbroken  series  of  successes.  "  A  Maelstrom  " 
(1884),  ''Eight  Stories,"  ''Married  Life"  {Et 
Samliv),  (1887),  "  Maisa  Jons"  (1888),  "The 
Commodore's  Daughters"  and  "Evil  Powers" 
(1890),  which  deal  with  interesting  phases  of  con- 
temporary life,  are  all  extremely  modern  in  feeling 
and  show  the  same  effort  to  discard  all  tinsel  and 
sham  and  get  at  the  very  heart  of  reality. 


JOISfAS  LIE  149 

He  had  by  this  series  of  novels  established  his 
reputation  as  a  relentless  realist,  when,  in  1892,  he 
surprised  his  admirers  by  the  publication  of  two 
volumes  of  the  most  wildly  fantastic  tales,  entitled 
'^  Trold."  It  was  as  if  a  volcano,  with  writhing 
torrents  of  flame  and  smoke,  had  burst  forth  from 
under  a  sidewalk  in  Broadway.  It  was  the  sup- 
pressed Finn  who,  for  once,  was  going  to  have  his 
fling,  even  though  he  were  doomed  henceforth  to 
silence.  It  was  the  "queer  thoughts"  (which 
had  accumulated  in  the  author  and  which  he  had 
scrupulously  imprisoned)  returning  to  take  ven- 
geance upon  him  unless  he  released  them.  The 
most  grotesque,  weird,  and  uncanny  imaginings 
(such  as  Stevenson  would  delight  in)  are  crowded 
together  in  these  tales,  some  of  which  are  derived 
from  folk-lore  and  legends,  while  others  are  free 
fantasies. 

Before  taking  leave  of  Jonas  Lie,  a  word  about 
his  style  is  in  order.  Style,  as  such,  counts  for 
very  little  with  him.  Yet  he  has  a  distinctly  in- 
dividual and  vigorous  manner  of  utterance,  though 
a  trifle  rough,  perhaps,  abrupt,  elliptic,  and  con- 
versational. Mere  decorative  adjectives  and  clever 
felicities  of  phrase  he  scorns.  All  scientific  and 
social  phenomena — all  that  we  include  under  the 
term  modern  progress — command  his  most  intense 
and  absorbed  attention.  Having  since  1883  been 
a  resident  of  Paris  (except  during  his  annual  sum- 
mer excursions  to  Norway  or  the  mountains  of 
Bavaria)  he  has  had  the  advantage  of  seeing  the 


ISO  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

society  wliicli  lie  describes  at  that  distance  which, 
if  it  does  not  lend  enchantment,  at  all  events  uni- 
fies the  scattered  impressions,  and  furnishes  a  con- 
venient critical  outpost.  He  does  not  permit  him- 
self, however,  like  so  many  foreigners  in  the 
French  capital,  to  lapse  into  that  supercilious  cos- 
mopolitanism which  deprives  a  man  of  his  own 
country  without  giving  him  any  other  in  ex- 
change. No ;  Jonas  Lie  is  and  remains  a  Norse- 
man— a  fact  which  he  demonstrated  (to  the  grati- 
fication of  his  countrymen)  on  a  recent  occasion. 
At  the  funeral  of  the  late  Professor  0.  J.  Broch — 
a  famous  Norwegian  who  died  in  Paris — the  chap- 
lain of  the  Swedish  legation  made  an  oration  in 
which  he  praised  the  dejDarted  statesman  and  scien- 
tist, referring  to  him  constantly  as  "  our  country- 
man." When  he  had  finished,  Jonas  Lie,  without 
anybody's  invitation,  stepped  quietly  up  to  the 
coffin  and  in  the  name  of  Norway  bade  Ms  coun- 
tryman a  last  farewell.  "  The  spirit  came  over 
Lie,"  says  his  biographer,  ''and  he  spoke  with  rav- 
ishing eloquence." 

But  why  did  he  do  such  an  uncalled-for  thing, 
you  will  ask  ?  Because  there  is  a  systematic  effort 
on  the  part  of  Sweden  to  suppress  the  very  name 
of  Norway,  and  to  give  the  impression,  throughout 
the  world,  that  there  is  no  such  nationality  as  the 
Norwegian.  Therefore  every  Norseman  (unless 
he  chooses  to  be  a  party  to  this  suppression)  is  ob- 
liged to  assert  his  nationality  in  season  and  out  of 
season.     But  Jonas  Lie  has,  indeed,  in  a  far  more 


JONAS  LIE  151 

effective  way  borne  aloft  the  banner  of  liis  conn- 
try.  His  books  have  been  translated  into  French, 
German,  English,  Dutch,  Swedish,  Finnish,  Ital- 
ian, Eussian,  and  Bohemian  ;  and  throughout 
Europe  the  literary  journals  and  magazines  are 
beginning  to  discuss  him  as  one  of  the  foremost 
representatives  of  modern  realism. 


HANS  CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN 


HANS   CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN* 

HANS  CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN  was  a 
unique  figure  in  Danish  literature,  and  a 
solitary  phenomenon  in  the  literature  of  the  world. 
Superficial  critics  have  compared  him  with  the 
Brothers  Grimm  ;  they  might  with  equal  propriety 
have  compared  him  with  Voltaire  or  with  the  man 
in  the  moon.  Jacob  and  Wilhelm  Grrimm  were 
scientific  collectors  of  folk-lore,  and  rendered  as 
faithfully  as  possible  the  simple  language  of  the 
peasants  from  whose  lips  they  gathered  their 
stories.  It  was  the  ethnological  and  philological 
value  of  the  fairy-tale  which  stimulated  their  zeal ; 
its  poetic  value  was  of  quite  secondary  significance. 
With  Andersen  the  case  was  exactly  the  reverse. 
He  was  as  innocent  of  scientific  intention  as  the 
hen  who  finds  a  diamond  on  a  dunghill  is  of  min- 
eralogy. It  was  the  poetic  phase  alone  of  the  fairy- 
tale which  attracted  him  ;  and  what  is  more,  he 
saw  poetic  possibilities  where  no  one  before  him 
had  ever  discovered  them.  By  the  alchemy  of 
genius  (which  seems  so  perfectly  simple  until  you 
try  it  yourself)  he  transformed  the  common  neg- 
lected nonsense  of  the  nursery  into  rare  poetic 
treasure.     Boots,  who  kills  the  ogre  and  marries 

*  A  portion  of  this  essay  appeared  originally  in  ' '  The  Dial " 

of  Chicaaro. 


1 5  6  SCA  XDIXA  T  'I A  X  LITER  A  TL  'RE 

the  princess — tlie  typical  lover  in  fiction  from  tlie 
remotest  Aryan  antiquity  down  to  the  present 
time — appears  in  Andersen  in  a  hundred  disguises, 
not  with  the  rudimentary  features  of  the  old  story, 
but  modernized,  individualized,  and  carrying  on 
his  shield  an  unobtrusive  little  moral.  In  "  Jack 
the  Dullard  "  he  comes  nearest  to  his  primitive 
prototype,  and  no  visible  effort  is  made  to  refine 
him.  In  '•  The  Most  Extraordinary  Thing"  he  is 
the  vehicle  of  a  pece  of  sociaT satire,  and  narrowly 
escapes  the  lot  which  the  Fates  seem  especially  to 
have  prepared  for  inventors,  viz.,  to  make  the 
fortune  of  some  unscrupulous  clown  while  they 
themselves  die  in  poverty.  In  "  The  Porter's 
Son"  he  is  an  aspiring  artist,  full  of  the  fire  of 
genius,  and  he  wins  his  princess  by  conquering 
that  many-headed  ogre  with  which  every  self-made 
man  has  to  battle — the  world's  envy,  and  malice, 
and  contempt  for  a  lowly  origin.  It  is  easy  to  mul- 
tiply examples,  but  these  may  suffice. 

In  another  species  of  fairy-tale,  which  Andersen 
may  be  said  to  have  invented,  incident  seems  to  be  *7 
secondary  to  the  moral  purpose,  which  is  yet  so  art-  ' 
fully  hidden  that  it  requires  a  certain  maturity  of 
intellect  to  detect  it.  In  this  field  Andersen  has 
done  his  noblest  work  and  earned  his  immortality. 
TVTio  can  read  that  marvellous  little  tale,  "The 
ITgly  Duckling,"  without  perceiving  that  it  is  a 
subtle,  most  exquisite  revenge  the  poet  is  taking 
upon  the  humdrum  Philistine  world,  which  de- 
spised and  humiliated   him,  before  he  lifted  his 


HAXS   CHRISTIAN  AXDERSEN  1 57 

wrings  and  flew  away  with  the  swans,  who  knew 
him  as  their  brother  ?  And  yet,  as  a  child,  I  re- 
member reading  this  tale  with  ever  fresh  delight, 
though  I  nerer  for  a  moment  suspected  its  moral. 
The  hens  and  the  ducks  and  the  geese  were  all  so 
vividly  individualized,  and  the  incidents  were  so 
familiar  to  my  own  experience,  that  I  demanded 
nothing  more  for  my  entertainment.  Likewise  in 
*•'  The  Goloshes  of  Fortune '"  there  is  a  wealth  of 
amusing  adventures,  all  within  the  reach  of  a 
child's  comprehension,  which  more  than  suffices 
to  fascinate  the  reader  who  fails  to  penetrate  be- 
neath the  surface.  The  delightful  satire,  which  is 
especially  applicable  to  Danish  society,  is  undoubt- 
edly lost  to  nine  out  of  ten  of  the  author  s  foreign 
readers,  but  so  prodigal  is  he  both  of  humorous 
and  pathetic  meaning,  that  every  one  is  charmed  \ 
with  what  he  finds,  without  suspecting  how  muchv^ 
he  has  missed.  '^' The  Little  Mermaid"  belongs 
to  the  same  order  of  stories,  though  the  pathos 
here  predominates,  and  the  resemblancei  to  De  la 
Motte  Fouque's  **'  Undine '"  is  rather  too  striking. 
But  the  gem  of  the  whole  collection,  I  am  inclined 
to  think,  is  •'*'  The  Emperors  Xew  Clothes,"  which 
in  subtlety  of  intention  and  universality  of  appli- 
cation rises  above  age  and  nationality.  Bespect  for 
the  world's  opinion  and  the  tvranny  of  fashion 
have  never  been  satirized  with  more  exquisite 
humor  than  iu  the  figure  of  the  emperor  who 
walks  through  the  streets  of  his  capital  in  robe  ds 
nuit.  followed  by  a  procession  of  courtiers,  who 


1 5  8  SCA  NDI^FA  VIA  JSf  LITER  A  TURE 

all  go  into  ecstasies  over  the  splendor  of  his  at- 
tire. 

It  was  not  only  in  the  choice  of  his  theme  that 
Andersen  was  original.  He  also  created  his  style, 
though  he  borrowed  much  of  it  from  the  nursery. 
'^  It  was  perfectly  wonderful,"  "  You  would  scarcely 
have  believed  it,"  "  One  would  have  supj)osed  that 
there  was  something  the  matter  in  the  poultry- 
yard,  but  there  was  nothing  at  all  the  matter  " — 
such  beginnings  are  not  what  we  expect  to  meet 
in  dignified  literature.  They  lack  the  convention- 
al style  and  deportment.  No  one  but  Andersen 
has  ever  dared  to  employ  them.  As  Dr.  Brandes 
has  said  in  his  charming  essay  on  Andersen,  no 
one  has  ever  attempted,  before  him,  to  transfer 
the  vivid  mimicry  and  gesticulation  which  accom- 
pany a  nursery  tale  to  the  printed  page.  If  you 
tell  a  child  about  a  horse,  you  don't  say  that  it 
neighed,  but  you  imitate  the  sound ;  and  the 
child's  laughter  or  fascinated  attention  compensates 
you  for  your  loss  of  dignity.  The  more  success- 
fully you  crow,  roar,  grunt,  and  mew,  the  more 
vividly  you  call  up  the  image  and  demeanor  of  the 
animal  you  wish  to  represent,  and  the  more  im- 
pressed is  your  juvenile  audience.  Now,  Ander- 
sen does  all  these  things  in  print :  a  truly  wonder- 
ful feat.  Every  variation  in  the  pitch  of  the 
voice — I  am  almost  tempted  to  say  every  change  of 
expression  in  the  story-teller's  features — is  con- 
tained in  the  text.  He  does  not  write  his  story, 
he  tells  it  ;  and  all  the  children  of  the  whole  wide 


HA.VS   CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEM  I  59 

world  sit  about  liim  and  listen  with  eager,  wide- 
eyed  wonder  to  his  marvellous  improvisations.* 

In  reading  Andersen's  collected  works  one  is 
particularly  impressed  with  the  fact  that  what  he 
did  outside  of  his  chosen  field  is  of  inferior  quality 
— inferior,  I  mean,  judged  by  his  own  high  stand- 
ard, though  in  itself  often  highly  valuable  and 
interesting.  ^'  The  Improvisatore,"  upon  which, 
next  to  "  The  Wonder-Tales,"  his  fame  rests,  is  a 
kind  of  disguised  autobiography  which  exhibits 
the  author's  morbid  sensibility  and  what  I  should 
call  the  unmasculiue  character  of  his  mind,  f  To 
appeal  to  the  reader's  pity  in  your  hero's  behalf  is 
a  daring  experiment,  and  it  cannot,  except  in  brief 
scenes,  be  successful.  A  prolonged  strain  of  com- 
passion soon  becomes  wearisome,  and  not  the 
worthiest  object  in  the  world  can  keep  one's  char- 
ity interested  through  four  hundred  pages.  An- 
tonio, in  ''  The  Improvisatore,"  is  a  milksop  whom 
the  author,  with  a  lavish  expenditure  of  sym- 
pathy, parades  as  a  hero.  He  is  positively  ludi- 
crous in  his  pitiful  softness,  vanity,  and  humility. 
That  the  book  nevertheless  remains  unfailingly 
popular,  and  is  even  yet  found  in  the  satchel  of 
every  Koman  tourist,  is  chiefly  due  to  the  poetic 

*  Brandes  :  Kritiker  og  Portraiter,  p.  303. 

+  R.  L.  Stevenson  in  speaking  of  the  "  Character  of  Dogs  " 
makes  the  following  cruel  observation  :  "  Hans  Christian  Ander- 
sen, as  vre  behold  him  in  his  startling  memoirs,  thrilling  from  top 
to  toe  with  an  excruciating  vanity  and  scouting  even  along  the 
streets  for  the  shadows  of  offence — here  was  the  talking  dog." 
— Memories  and  Portraits,  p.  1%. 


l6o  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

intensity  witli  which  the  author  absorbed  and  por- 
trayed every  Eoman  sight  and  sound.  Italy  throbs 
and  glows  in  the  pages  of  "  The  Improvisatore  " — 
the  old  vagabond  Italy  of  pre-Garibaldian  days, 
when  priests  and  bandits  and  pretty  women  di- 
vided the  power  of  Church  and  State.  Story's 
"  Eoba  di  Eoma,"  Augustus  Hare's  "  Walks  in 
Kome/'  and  all  the  other  descriptions  of  the  Eter- 
nal City,  are  but  disguised  guide-books,  feeble  and 
pale  performances,  when  compared  with  Ander- 
sen's beautiful  romance. 

The  same  feminine  sentimentality  which,  in  spite 
of  its  picturesqueness,  makes  "  The  Improvisatore" 
unpalatable  to  many  readers,  is  still  more  glaringly 
exhibited  in  ''  0.  T."  and  "  The  Two  Baronesses." 
In  "  The  Story  of  My  Life  "  the  same  quality  as- 
serts itself  on  every  page  in  the  most  unpleasant 
manner.  The  author  makes  no  effort  to  excite  the 
reader's  admiration,  but  he  makes  constant  appeals 
to  his  symj)athy.  Nevertheless  this  autobiography 
rivals  in  historic  and  poetic  worth  Kousseau's 
''Confessions"  and  Benvenuto  Cellini's  "Life." 
The  absolute  candor  with  which  Andersen  lays 
bare  his  soul,  the  complete  intentional  or  uninten- 
tional self-revelation,  gives  a  psychological  value  to 
the  book  which  no  mere  literary  graces  could  be- 
stow. I  confess,  until  I  had  the  pleasure  of  mak- 
ing Andersen's  acquaintance,  "  The  Fairy  Tale  of 
My  Life "  impressed  me  unpleasantly.  After  I 
had  by  personal  intercourse  possessed  myself  of 
the  clew  to  the  man's  character,  I  judged  differ- 


HAiVS   CHRISTIAN-  ANDERSEN  l6l 

ently.  Andersen  remcained,  until  the  day  of  his 
deaths  a  child.  His  innocence  was  more  than  vir- 
ginal ;  his  unworldliness  simply  inconceivable.  He 
carried  his  heart  on  his  sleeve,  and  invited  you  to 
observe  what  a  soft,  tender,  and  sensitive  heart  it 
was.  He  had  the  harmless  vanity  of  a  child  who 
has  a  new  frock  on.  He  was  fidgety  and  unhappy 
if  anybody  but  himself  was  the  centre  of  attrac- 
tion ;  and  guilelessly  happy  when  he  could  talk 
and  be  admired  and  sympathized  with.  His  con- 
versation was  nearly  always  about  himself,  or  about 
the  kings  and  princes  and  lofty  personages  who 
had  graciously  deigned  to  take  notice  of  him.  He 
was  a  tuft-hunter  of  a  rare  and  curious  sort ;  not 
because  he  valued  the  glory  reflected  upon  himself 
by  royal  acquaintances,  but  because  the  pomp  and 
splendor  of  a  court  satisfied  his  thirst  for  the  mar- 
vellous. A  king  seemed  to  him,  as  to  the  boy  who 
reads  his  fairy-tales,  something  grand  and  remote ; 
and  in  invading  this  charmed  sphere  he  seemed  to 
have  invaded  his  own  fairy-tales,  and  to  live  actu- 
ally in  the  fabulous  region  of  wonders  in  which  his 
fancy  revelled.  He  conceived  of  his  life  as  a  fairy- 
tale, and  delighted  in  living  up  to  his  own  ideal  of 
living.  The  very  title  of  his  autobiography  in 
Danish  {Mit  Livs  Eventyr)  shows  this  conclusive- 
ly ;  and  it  ought  to  have  been  rendered  in  English 
''  The  Fairy-Tale  of  My  Life."  "  The  Story  of 
My  Life,"  as  Mr.  Scudder  has  translated  it,  would 
have  been  in  the  original  "Mit  Livs  Historie," 
a  very  common  title,  by  the  way,  for  an  autobi- 


1 62     SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURK 

ography,   while    Mit    Livs    Eventyr    is    entirely 
unique. 

The  feeling  of  the  marvellous  pervades  the 
book  from  beginning  to  end.  The  prose  facts  of 
life  had  but  a  remote  and  indistinct  existence  to 
the  23oet,  and  he  blundered  along  miserably  in  his 
youth,  supported  and  upheld  by  a  dim  but  un- 
quenchable aspiration.  He  commiserated  himself, 
and  yet  felt  that  there  was  something  great  in 
store  for  him  because  of  his  exceptional  endow- 
ment. Every  incident  in  his  career  he  treated  as 
if  it  were  a  miracle,  which  required  the  suspension 
of  the  laws  of  the  universe  for  its  performance. 
God  was  a  benevolent  old  man  with  a  long  beard 
(just  as  he  was  depicted  in  old  Dr.  Luther's  Cat- 
echism) who  sat  up  in  the  skies  and  spent  his  time 
chiefly  in  managing  the  affairs  of  Hans  Christian 
Andersen  as  pleasantly  as  possible ;  and  Hans 
Christian  was  duly  grateful,  and  cried  on  every 
third  or  fourth  page  at  the  thought  of  the 
goodness  of  God  and  man.  Sometimes,  for  a 
change,  he  cried  at  the  wickedness  of  the  latter, 
and  marvelled,  with  the  naivete  of  a  spoiled  child, 
that  there  should  be  such  dreadful  people  in  the 
world,  who  should  persist  in  misunderstanding 
and  misrepresenting  him.  Those  who  were  good 
to  him  he  exalted  and  lauded  to  the  skies,  no  mat- 
ter how  they  conducted  themselves  toward  the  rest 
of  humanity.  Some  of  the  most  mediocre  princes, 
who  had  paid  him  compliments,  he  embalmed  in 
prose  and  verse.     Frederick   YII.    of   Denmark, 


HANS   CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN  1 63 

whose  immorality  was  notorious,  was,  according 
to  Andersen,  "  a  good,  amiable  king,"  "  sent  by 
God  to  Danish  land  and  folk,"  than  whom  "  no 
truer  man  the  Danish  language  spoke."  And  this 
case  was  by  no  means  exceptional.  The  same  un- 
critical partiality  toward  the  great  and  mighty  is 
perceptible  in  every  chapter  of  "  The  Fairy-Tale 
of  My  Life."  It  was  not,  however,  toward  the 
great  and  mighty  alone  that  he  assumed  this  atti- 
tude ;  he  was  uncritical  by  nature,  and  had  too 
soft  a  heart  to  find  fault  with  anybody — except 
those  who  did  not  like  his  books.  Heine's  jocose 
description  of  heaven  as  a  place  where  he  could 
eat  cakes  and  sweets,  and  drink  punch  ad  libitum, 
and  where  the  angels  sat  around  raving  about  his 
poetry,  was  probably  not  so  very  remote  from 
Andersen's  actual  conception.  His  world  was  the 
child's  world,  in  which  there  is  but  one  grand  di- 
vision into  good  and  bad,  and  the  innumerable 
host  that  occupies  the  middle-ground  between 
these  poles  is  ignored.  Those  who  praised  what 
he  wrote  were  good  people  ;  tho.se  Avho  ridiculed 
him  were  a  malignant  and  black-hearted  lot  whom 
he  was  very  sorry  for  and  would  include  in  his 
prayers,  in  the  hope  that  God  might  make  them 
better. 

We  may  smile  at  this  simple  system  ;  but  we  all 
remember  the  time  when  we  were  addicted  to  a 
similar  classification.  That  it  is  a  sign  of  im- 
maturity of  intellect  is  undeniable  ;  and  in  Ander- 
sen's case  it  is  one  of  the  many  indications  that  in- 


1 64  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

tellectnally  lie  never  outgrew  his  childhood.  He 
never  possessed  the  power  of  judgment  that  we 
expect  in  a  grown-up  man.  His  opinions  on 
social  and  political  questions  were  naive  and  quite 
worthless.  And  yet,  in  spite  of  all  these  limita- 
tions, he  was  a  poet  of  rare  power  ;  nay,  I  may  say 
in  consequence  of  them.  The  vitality  which  in 
other  authors  goes  toward  intellectual  develop- 
ment, produced  in  him  strength  and  intensity  of 
imagination.  Everything  which  his  fancy  touched 
it  invested  with  life  and  beauty.  It  divined  the 
secret  soul  of  bird  and  beast  and  inanimate  things. 
His  hens  and  ducks  and  donkeys  speak  as  hens 
and  ducks  and  donkeys  would  speak  if  they  could 
speak.  Their  temperaments  and  characters  are 
scrupulously  respected.  Even  shirt-collars,  ginger- 
bread men,  darning-needles,  flowers,  and  sun- 
beams, he  endowed  with  physiognomies  and 
speech,  fairly  consistent  with  their  ruling  char- 
acteristics. This  personification,  especially  of  in- 
animate objects,  may  at  first,  appear  arbitrary  ; 
but  it  is  part  of  the  beautiful  consistency  of  An- 
dersen^s  genius  that  it  never  stoops  to  mere  amus- 
ing and  fantastic  trickery.  The  character  of  the 
darning-needle  is  the  character  which  a  child 
would  naturally  attribute  to  a  darning-needle, 
and  the  whole  multitude  of  vivid  personifica- 
tions which  fills  his  tales  is  governed  by  the  same 
consistent  but  dimly  apprehended  instinct.  Of 
course,  I  do  not  pretend  that  he  was  conscious  of 
any  such  consistency ;  creative  processes  rarely  are 


HANS   CHRISTIAN'  ANDERSEN  165 

conscious.  But  he  needed  no  reflection  in  order 
to  discover  the  chikl's  view  of  its  own  world.  He 
never  ceased  to  regard  the  world  from  the  child's 
point  of  view,  and  his  personification  of  an  old 
clothes-press  or  a  darning-needle  was  therefore 
as  natural  as  that  of  a  child  who  beats  the  chair 
against  which  it  bumped  its  head.  In  the  works 
of  more  ambitious  scope,  where  this  code  of  con- 
duct would  be  out  of  place,  Andersen  was  never 
wholly  at  his  ease.  As  lovers,  his  heroes  usually 
cut  a  sorry  figure  ;  their  milk-and-water  passion  is 
described,  but  it  is  never  felt.  They  make  them- 
selves a  trifle  ridiculous  by  their  innocence,  and 
are  amusing  when  they  themselves  least  suspect  it. 
Likewise,  in  his  autobiography,  he  is  continually 
exposing  himself  to  ridicule  by  his  naive  candor, 
and  his  inability  to  adapt  himself  to  the  etiquette 
which  prevails  among  grown-up  people.  Take 
as  an  instance  his  visit  to  the  Brothers  Grimm, 
when  he  asked  the  servant  girl  which  of  the 
brothers  was  the  more  learned,  and  when  she  an- 
swered "  Jacob,"  he  said,  ''  Then  take  me  to  Jacob." 
The  little  love  affair,  too,  which  he  confides  seems 
to  have  been  of  the  kind  which  one  is  apt  to 
experience  during  the  pinafore  period  ;  a  little 
more  serious,  perhaps,  but  yet  of  the  same  kind. 
It  is  in  this  vague  and  impersonal  style  that  princes 
and  princesses  love  each  other  in  tlie  fairy-tales  ; 
everything  winds  up  smoothly,  and  there  are  never 
any  marital  disagreements  to  darken  the  honey- 
moon.    It  is  in  this  happy,  passionless  realm  that 


1 66  SCA  NDINA  VIA  AT  LITER  A  TURE 

Andersen  dwells,  and  here  he  reigns  supreme. 
For  many  years  to  come  the  fair  creatures  of  his 
fancy  will  continue  to  brighten  the  childhood  of 
new  generations.  No  rival  has  ever  entered  this 
realm  ;  and  even  critics  are  excluded.  Neverthe- 
less, Andersen  need  have  no  fear  of  the  latter  ;  for 
even  if  they  had  the  wish,  they  would  not  have 
the  power,  to  rob  him  of  his  laurels. 

Hans  Christian  Andersen  was  born  in  the  little 
town  of  Odense,  on  the  island  Fiinen,  April  2, 
1805.  His  father  was  a  poor  shoemaker,  with 
some  erratic  ambitions,  or,  if  his  son^s  word  may 
be  trusted,  a  man  of  a  richly  gifted  and  truly 
poetic  mind.  His  wife  was  a  few  years  older  and 
a  good  deal  more  ignorant  than  himself  ;  and  when 
they  set  up  housekeeping  together,  in  a  little  back 
room,  they  rejoiced  in  being  able  to  nail  together 
a  bridal  bed  out  of  the  scaffolding  which  had  re- 
cently supported  a  dead  nobleman's  coffin.  The 
black  mourning  drapery  which  yet  clung  to  the 
wood  gave  them  quite  a  sense  of  magnificence. 
Their  first  child,  Hans  Christian,  grew  up  amid 
these  mean  surroundings,  constantly  worried  by 
the  street  boys,  who  made  a  butt  of  him,  and  tort- 
ured him  in  the  thousand  ingenious  ways  known 
to  their  species.  He  had  no  schooling  to  speak 
of ;  but,  for  all  that,  was  haunted,  like  Joseph, 
by  dreams  foreshadowing  his  future  greatness. 
Guided  by  this  premonition  he  started,  at  the  age 
of  fourteen,  for  Copenhagen,  a  tall,  ugly,  and  un- 
gainly lad,  but  resolved,  somehow  or  other,  to  con- 


HANS   CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN  l6j 

qner  fame  and  honor.  He  tried  himself  as  a 
dancer^  singer,  actor,  and  failed  lamentably  in  all 
his  cUhuts.  He  could  not  himself  estimate  the 
extent  of  his  own  ignorance,  nor  could  he  dream 
what  a  figure  he  was  cutting.  Undismayed  by  all 
rebuffs,  though  suffering  agony  from  his  wounded 
vanity,  he  wrote  poems,  comedies,  and  tragedies,  in 
which  he  plagiarized,  more  or  less  unconsciously, 
the  elder  Danish  poets.  Mr.  Jonas  Collins,  one  of 
the  directors  of  the  Koyal  Theatre,  became  inter- 
ested in  the  youth,  whose  unusual  ambition  meant 
either  madness  or  genius.  In  order  to  determine 
which  it  might  be,  Mr.  Collins  induced  King 
Frederic  VI.  to  pay  for  his  education,  and  after 
half  a  dozen  years  at  school  Hans  Christian  passed 
the  entrance  examination  to  the  University.  Mr. 
Collins  continued  to  assist  him  with  counsel  and 
deed  ;  and  his  hospitable  house  in  Bredgade  be- 
came a  second  home  to  Andersen.  There  he  met, 
for  the  first  time,  people  of  refinement  and  culture 
on  equal  terms  ;  and  his  morbid  self-introspection 
was  in  a  measure  cured  by  kindly  association,  tem- 
pered by  wholesome  fun  and  friendly  criticism. 
He  now  resolved  to  abandon  his  University  studies 
and  devote  his  life  to  literature. 

I  have  no  doubt  it  would  have  alarmed  the 
gentle  poet  very  much,  if  he  had  been  told  that  he 
belonged  to  the  Romantic  School.  To  be  classified 
in  literature  and  be  bracketed  with  a  lot  of  men 
with  whom  you  are  not  even  on  speaking  terms, 
and  whom,  more  than  likely,  you  don't  admire. 


1 68  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LIT  ERA  TUKE 

would  have  seemed  to  liim  an  unpleasant  prospect. 
That  he  drew  much  of  his  inspiration  from  the 
German  Eomanticists^,  notably  Heine  and  Hoff- 
mann, he  would  perhaps  have  admitted  ;  but  he 
would  have  thought  it  unkind  of  you  to  comment 
upon  his  indebtedness.  In  his  first  book,  ''A  Pe- 
destrian Tour  from  Holmen  Canal  to  the  Eastern 
Extremity  of  Amager  ^^  (1829),  he  assumed  by  turns 
the  llasG  mask  of  the  former  and  the  fantastically 
eccentric  one  of  the  latter  ;  both  of  which  ill  be- 
came his  good-natured,  plebeian,  Danish  counte- 
ance.  For  all  that,  the  book  was  a  success  in  its 
day  ;  and  no  less  an  authority  than  the  gesthetic 
Grand  Mogul,  J.  L.  Heiberg,  hailed  it  as  a  work  of 
no  mean  merit.  It  strikes  us  to-day  as  an  exhib- 
ition of  that  mocking  smartness  of  youth  which 
often  hides  a  childish  heart.  It  was  because  he 
was  so  excessively  sentimental  and  feared  to  betray 
his  real  physiognomy  that  he  cut  these  excruci- 
ating capers.  His  other  alternative  would  have 
been  mawkishness.  His  vaudeville,  "  Love  on  the 
Nicholas  Tower,"  which  satirizes  the  drama  of 
chivalry,  is  in  the  same  vein  and  made  a  similar 
hit.  A  volume  of  "Poems"  was  also  well  re- 
ceived. But  in  1831  he  met  with  his  first  literary 
reverse.  A  second  collection  of  verses,  entitled 
*'  Phantasies  and  Sketches,"  was  pitilessly  ridiculed 
by  Henrik  Hertz,  in  his  "  Letters  from  the  Dead." 
Andersen's  lack  of  style  and  violations  of  syntax 
were  rather  maliciously  commented  upon.  If 
Gabriel's  trump  had  sounded  from  the  top  of  the 


HA.VS   CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN  l6g 

Eound  Tower,  it  would  not  have  startled  Ander- 
sen more.  He  was  in  despair.  Like  tlie  great 
child  he  was,  he  went  about  craving  sympathy, 
and  weeping  when  he  failed  to  find  it. 

**I  could  say  nothing,"  he  writes  in  ''the  Fairy- 
Tale  of  My  Life,"  "  I  could  only  let  the  big,  heavy 
waves  roll  over  me  ;  and  it  was  the  common  opin- 
ion that  I  was  to  be  totally  washed  away.  I  felt 
deeply  the  wound  of  the  sharp  knife  ;  and  was  on 
the  point  of  giving  myself  up,  as  I  was  already 
given  up  by  others." 

This  is  one  of  the  numerous  exhibitions  of  that 
over-sensitiveness  to  criticism  which  caused  him 
such  long  and  continued  suffering.  His  mind  was 
like  a  bared  nerve,  quivering  with  delight  or  con- 
tracting with  violent  pain.  Utterly  devoid,  as  he 
was,  of  self-criticism,  he  regarded  his  authorship 
as  something  miraculous,  and  held  God  (who  ap- 
parently supervised  each  chapter)  resi^onsible  for 
the  fate  of  his  books.  "  If  the  Lord,"  he  writes  in 
solemn  earnest  to  a  friend,  "will  take  as  good  care 
of  the  remainder  as  he  has  of  the  first  chapters, 
you  will  like  it."*  There  was  to  him  no  differ- 
ence between  his  best  and  his  worst.  It  was  all 
part  of  himself,  and  he  could  scarcely  conceive  of 
any  motive  for  finding  fault  with  it,  except  per- 
sonal  malice,    envy,   animosity,  f     This   did  not, 

*  P.  Hansen  :  Illustreret  Dansk  Litteratur  Historie,  vol.  ii.,  p. 
477. 

+  I  derive  this  impression  not  only  from  the  Autobiography, 
but  from  many  conversations.  An  account  of  My  Acquaint- 
ance with  Hans  Christian  Andersen  will  be  found  in  The  Cen- 
tury Magazine,  March,  1892. 


I/O  SCA  NDINA  T  YA  JV  LITER  A  TURE 

however,  always  prevent  liim  from  associating  with 
the  malevolent  critic,  as  for  instance  in  the  case  of 
Hertz,  with  whom  he  presently  established  pleas- 
ant relations. 

In  1831  Andersen  made  his  first  trip  abroad. 
*'By  industry  and  frugality,"  he  says,  "I  had 
saved  up  a  little  sum  of  money,  so  I  resolved  to 
spend  a  couple  of  weeks  in  North  Germany." 

The  result  of  this  journey  was  the  book  "  Shadow 
Pictures,"  which  was  followed  in  1833  by  "  Vi- 
gnettes on  Danish  Poets,"  and  a  chaplet  of  verse  en- 
titled ''  The  Twelve  Months  of  the  Year."  It  is 
quite  true,  as  he  affirms,  that  in  his  *■'  Vignettes," 
he  "only  spoke  of  that  which  was  good  in  them 
[the  poets]  ;  but  in  consequence  there  is  a  great 
lack  of  Attic  salt  in  the  book.  In  1833  he  went 
abroad  once  more,  visited  Germany,  France, 
Switzerland,  and  Italy,  and  sent  home  the  dra- 
matic poem  "  Agnete  and  the  Merman,"  the  com- 
parative failure  of  which  was  a  fresh  grief  to  him. 
After  his  return  from  Rome  (1835)  he  published 
his  "  Improvisatore,"  which  slowly  won  its  way. 
It  was  the  reputation  this  novel  gained  abroad 
which  changed  public  opinion  in  Denmark  in  its 
favor.  A  second  novel,  "  Only  a  Fiddler  "  (1837), 
is  a  fresh  variation  of  his  autobiography,  and  the 
lachrymose  and  a  trifle  chaotic  story,  "  0.  T."  (being 
the  brand  of  the  Odense  penitentiary)  scarcely 
deserved  any  better  reception  than  was  accorded 
it. 

It  is  a  curious  thing  that  misconception  and  ad- 


HANS   CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN  I/T 

versity  never  hardened  Andersen  or  toughened  the 
fibre  of  his  jiersonality.  The  same  lamentable 
lack  of  robustness — not  to  say  manliness — which 
marked  his  youth  remained  his  prevailing  charac- 
teristic to  the  end  of  his  life.  And  I  fancy,  if  he 
had  ever  reached  intellectual  maturity,  both  he 
himself  and  the  world  would  have  been  losers. 
For  it  is  his  unique  distinction  to  have  expressed  a 
simplicity  of  soul  which  is  usually  dumb — which 
has,  at  all  events,  nowhere  else  recorded  itself  in 
literature.  We  all  have  a  dim  recollection  of  how 
the  world  looked  from  the  nursery  window  ;  but  no 
book  has  preserved  so  vivid  and  accurate  a  nega- 
tive of  that  marvellous  panorama  as  Andersen's 
"Wonder  Tales  for  Children/''  the  first  collection 
of  which  appeared  in  1835.  All  the  jumbled, 
distorted  proportions  of  things  (like  the  reflection 
of  a  landscajDe  in  a  crystal  ball)  is  capitally  repro- 
duced. Th£_f n w tasticflJly  ]3ersonifying  fancy  of 
childhood,  where  does  it  have  more  delightful 
pTay  T  The  radiance  of  an  enchanted  fairy  realm 
that  bursts  like  an  iridescent  soap-bubble  at  the 
touch  of  the  finger  of  reason,  where  does  it  linger 
in  more  alluring  beauty  than  in  "  Ole  Lukoie  " 
("The  Sandman"),  "The  Little  Mermaid,"  or 
"  The  Ice-Maiden  "  ?  There  is  a  bloom,  an  in- 
definable, dewy  freshness  about  the  grass,  the 
flowers,  the  very  light,  and  the  children's  sweet 
faces.  And  so  vivid — so  marvellously  vivid — as  it 
all  is.  Listen  to  this  from  "  Five  in  a  Pea- 
Pod:" 


1 7  2  SCA  NDIIsFA  VIA  N  LIT  ERA  TURE 

' '  There  were  five  peas  in  one  pod.  They  were  green,  and 
the  pod  was  green  ;  and  so  they  thought  that  the  whole 
world  was  green.  And  that  was  just  as  it  should  be.  The 
pod  grew  and  the  peas  grew  ;  they  accommodated  them- 
selves to  circumstances,  sitting  all  in  a  row." 

Or  take  tliis  from  ''  Little  Tuk  :  " 

"  Yes,  that  was  Little  Tuk.  His  name  wasn't  really  Tuk, 
but  when  he  couldn't  speak  plain,  he  used  to  call  himself 
so.  It  was  meant  for  Charley  ;  and  it  does  very  well,  when 
one  only  knows  it." 

Or  this  incomparable  bit  of  drollery  from  Hjal- 
mar's  dream  in  "  Tlie  Sandman  :  " 

"  There  came  a  terrible  wail  from  the  table-drawer  where 
Hjalmar's  school-books  lay.  '  Whatever  can  that  be  ?  '  said 
the  Sandman.  And  he  went  to  the  table  and  opened  the 
drawer.  It  was  the  slate  which  was  in  convulsions  because 
a  wrong  number  had  got  into  the  sum,  so  that  it  was  fairly 
falling  to  pieces.  The  slate-pencil  tugged  and  jumped  at  the 
end  of  its  string,  as  if  it  had  been  a  little  dog  that  wanted  to 
help  the  sum.  But  he  could  not.  There  was  a  great  lam- 
entation in  Hjalmar's  copy-book,  too  ;  it  was  quite  terrible 
to  hear.  On  each  page  the  large  letters  stood  in  a  row,  one 
underneath  the  other,  and  each  with  a  little  one  at  its  side. 
That  was  the  copy.  And  next  to  these  were  a  few  more 
letters,  which  thought  they  looked  just  like  the  others. 
These  were  the  ones  Hjalmar  had  written.  But  they  lay 
down  as  if  they  had  tumbled  pell-mell  over  the  pencil  lines 
upon  which  they  were  to  stand. 

"  '  Look,  this  is  the  way  you  should  hold  yourselves,'  said 
the  copy,  'sloping  this  way  with  a  bold  swing.'  'Oh,  we 
should  be  very  glad  to  do  that,'  answered  Hjalmar's  letters, 
'  but  we  can't.     We  are  so  weakly.'     'Then  you  must  take 


HANS   CHRISTIAN-  ANDERSEN  1 73 

medicine,'  said  the  Sandman.  '  Oh.  no,  no,'  cried  tliey, 
and  straightway  they  stood  up  so  gracefully  that  it  was  a 
pleasure  to  look  at  them." 

This  strikes  me  as  having  the  very  movement 
and  all  the  delicious  whimsicality  of  a  school-boy's 
troubled  dream.  It  has  the  delectable  absurdity 
of  the  dream's  inverted  logic.  You  feel  with  what 
beautiful  zest  it  was  written  ;  how  childishly  the 
author  himself  relished  it.  The  illusion  is  there- 
fore perfect.  The  big  child  who  played  Avith  his 
puppet  theatre  until  after  he  was  groAvn  up  is 
quite  visible  in  every  line.  He  is  as  much  ab- 
sorbed in  the  story  as  any  of  his  hearers.  He  is 
all  in  the  game  with  the  intense  engrossment  of  a 
lad  I  knew,  who,  while  playing  Eobinson  Crusoe, 
ate  snails  Avith  relish  for  oysters. 

Throughout  the  first  series  of  "  "Wonder  Tales  " 
there  is  a  capital  air  of  make-believe,  which  im- 
poses upon  you  most  delightfully,  and  makes  you 
accept  the  most  incredible  doings,  as  you  accept 
them  in  a  dream,  as  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world.  In  the  later  series,  where  the  didactic 
tale  becomes  more  frequent  (''  The  Pine  Tree," 
'*  The  Wind's  Tale,"  "  The  Buckwheat "),  there 
is  an  occasional  forced  note.  The  story-teller  be- 
comes a  benevolent,  moralizing  uncle,  who  takes 
the  child  upon  his  knee,  in  order  to  instruct  while 
entertaining  it.  But  he  is  no  more  in  the  game. 
A  cloying  sweetness  of  tone,  such  as  sentimental 
people  often  adopt  toward  children,  spoils  more 
than  one  of  the  fables  ;  and  when  occasionally  he 


1 74  SCANDINA  VI AN  LITER  A  TURE 

ventures  upon  a  love-story  (''The  Kose-Elf," 
"  The  Old  Bachelor's  Nightcap,"  "  The  Porter's 
Son  "),  he  is  apt  to  be  as  unintentionally  amusing 
as  he  is  in  telling  his  own  love  ei)isode  in  "  The 
Fairy-Tale  of  My  Life."  However,  no  man  can 
unite  the  advantages  of  adult  age  and  childhood, 
and  we  all  feel  that  there  is  something  incongru- 
ous in  a  child's  talking  of  love. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  his  world-wide  fame  as 
the  poet  of  childhood  never  quite  satisfied  Ander- 
sen. *  He  never  accejoted  it  without  a  protest.  It 
neither  pleased  nor  sufficed  him.  He  was  espe- 
cially eager  to  win  laurels  as  a  dramatist ;  and  in 
1839  celebrated  his  first  dramatic  success  by  a 
farcical  vaudeville  entitled  '^  The  Invisible  at 
Sprogoe."  Then  followed  the  romantic  drama 
"The  Mulatto"  (1840),  Avhich  charmed  the  pub- 
lic and  disgusted  the  critics  ;  and  ''  The  Moorish 
Maiden,"  which  disgusted  both.  These  plays  are 
slipshod  in  construction,  but  emotionally  effective. 
The  characters  are  loose-fibred  and  vague,  and 
have  no  more  backbone  than  their  author  himself. 

*  For  verification  of  this  statement  I  may  refer  to  his  indignant 
letter  apropos  of  the  statue  that  was  to  be  raised  to  him  in  Copen- 
hagen, in  which  he  was  represented  surrounded  by  listening  chil- 
dren :  "None  of  the  sculptors,"  he  wrote,  "have  known  me; 
none  of  their  sketches  indicate  that  they  have  seen  what  is  char- 
acteristic in  me.  Never  could  I  read  aloud  when  anybody  was 
sitting  behind  me  or  close  up  to  me  ;  far  less  if  I  had  children  on 
my  lap  or  on  my  back,  or  young  Copenhageners  lying  all  over  me. 
It  is  a/rtfow  de  parler  to  call  me  '  the  children's  poet.'  My  aim 
has  been  to  be  the  poet  of  all  ages  ;  children  could  not  represent 


HANS   CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN  1 75 

J.  L.  Heiberg  thought  it  high  time  to  chastise 
the  half-cultured  shoemaker's  son  for  his  audacity, 
and  in  the  third  act  of  "  A  Soul  after  Death/' 
held  him  up  to  ridicule.  Andersen,  stabbed  again 
to  the  heart,  hastened  aAvay  from  home,  "  suf- 
fering and  disconcerted."  But  before  leaving  he 
l^ublished  ''A  Picture-Book  without  Pictures" 
(1840),  which  is  attached  to  the  American  edition 
of  his  *'  Stories  and  Tales,"  and  deserves  its  place. 
The  moon's  pathetic  and  humorous  observations 
on  the  world  she  looks  down  upon  every  evening 
of  her  thirty  nights'  circuit  have  already  become 
classic  in  half-a-dozen  languages.  The  little  girl 
Avho  came  to  kiss  the  hen  and  beg  her  pardon  ;  the 
ragged  street  gamin  who  died  upon  the  throne  of 
France  ;  the  Hindoo  maiden  who  burned  her  lamp 
upon  the  banks  of  the  Ganges  in  order  to  see  if 
her  lover  was  alive  ;  the  little  maid  who  was  peni- 
tent because  she  laughed  at  the  lame  duckling 
with  a  red  rag  around  its  leg — who  does  not  know 
the  whole  inimitable  gallery  from  beginning  to 
end  ?  The  tenderest,  the  softest,  the  most  vir- 
ginal spirit  breathes  through  all  these  sketches. 
They  are  sentimental,  no  doubt,  and  a  trifle  too 
sweet.  But  then  they  belong  to  a  period  of  our 
lives  when  a  little  excess  in  that  direction  does  not 
trouble  us. 

In  1842  Andersen  gave  to  the  world  "  A  Poets' 
Bazaar,"  a  chronicle  of  his  travels  through  nearly 
all  the  countries  of  Europe.  In  1844  the  drama 
'^  The  King  is  Dreaming,"  and  in  1845  the  fairy 


1 76  SCA  NDINA  J  VA  N  LIT  ERA  TURE 

comedy  ''The  Flower  of  Fortune."  But  his 
highest  dramatic  triumph  he  celebrated  in  the 
anonymous  comedy  "  The  New  Lying-in  Eoom," 
which  in  a  measure  proved  his  contention  that  it 
was  personal  hostility  and  not  critical  scruples 
which  made  so  large  a  portion  of  the  Copenhagen 
literati  persecute  him.  For  the  very  men  who 
would  have  been  the  first  to  hold  his  play  up  to 
scorn  were  the  heartiest  in  their  applause,  as  long 
as  they  did  not  know  that  Andersen  was  its  author. 
Less  pronounced  was  the  success  of  the  lyrical 
drama  ''Little  Kirsten"  (1846);  and  the  some- 
what ambitious  epic  "  Ahasverus "  comes  very 
near  being  a  failure.  The  next  ventures  of  the  ver- 
satile and  indefatigable  poet  were  the  novel  "  The 
Two  Baronesses  "  (1849),  and  the  fairy  comedies 
"More  than  Pearls  and  Gold"  (1849),  adapted 
from  a  German  original,  "  The  Sandman  "  *  (1850), 
and  "  The  Elder  Tree  Mother  "  (1851).  The  come- 
dies "  He  was  not  Born"  (1864),  "  On  Langebro" 
and  "  When  the  Spaniards  were  Here "  (1869), 
complete  the  cycle  of  his  dramatic  labors.  But  the 
most  amusing  thing  he  did,  showing  how  incapa- 
ble he  was  of  taking  the  measure  of  his  faculties, 
was  to  write  a  novel,  "  To  Be  or  Not  to  Be  "  (1857), 
in  which  he  proposed  once  and  forever  to  down 
the  giant  Unbelief,  prove  the  immortality  of  the 
soul,  and  produce  "peace  and  reconciliation  be- 
tween Nature  and  the  Bible."  It  was  nothing  less 
than  the  evidences  of  Christianity  in  novelistic 

*  Danish,  Ole  Lukoie. 


HANS   CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN  IJJ 

form  with  wliicli  lie  designed  to  favor  an  expect- 
ant world.  "  If  *  I  can  solve  this  problem,"  he 
naively  wrote  to  a  friend,  "  then  the  monster  ma- 
terialism, devouring  everything  divine,  will  die." 
But  rarely  was  a  bigger  Gulliver  tackled  by  a  ti- 
nier Liliputian.  The  book  not  only  fell  flat,  but 
it  was  only  the  world-wide  renown  and  the  good  in- 
tention of  its  author  which  saved  it  from  derision. 
Though  Andersen  never  attained  in  Copenhagen 
an  uncontested  recognition  of  his  talent,  honors 
both  from  at  home  and  abroad  were  showered  upon 
him.  The  fame  which  undeniably  was  his  com- 
manded respect,  but  scarcely  approval.  Heiberg 
made  merry  at  his  obscurity  in  the  country  of  his 
birth  and  his  celebrity  beyond  its  boundaries,  and 
represented  him  as  reading  "  The  Mulatto"  to  the 
Sultanas  wives  and  the  "  Moorish  Maiden  "  to  those 
who  were  to  be  strangled,  kneeling  in  rapture, 
while  the  Grand  Eunuch,  crowned  his  head  with 
laurels.  But  in  spite  of  obloquy  and  ridicule,  An- 
dersen continued  his  triumphant  progress  through 
all  the  lands  of  the  civilized  world,  and  even  be- 
yond it.  In  1875  his  tale,  "  The  Story  of  a  Moth- 
er," was  published  simultaneously  in  fifteen  lan- 
guages, in  honor  of  his  seventieth  birthday.  A 
few  months  later  (August  4th)  he  died  at  the  villa 
Eolighed,  near  Copenhagen.  His  life  was  indeed 
as  marvellous  as  any  of  his  tales.  A  gleam  of 
light  from  the  wonderland  in  which  he  dwelt  seems 
to  have  fallen  upon  his  cradle  and  to  have  illumi- 

*  Hansen  :  lUustreret  Dansk  Litteratur  Historie,  ii.  p.  560. 
13 


1 78  SCANDINA  VI AN  LITER  A  l^URE 

nated  liis  whole  career.  It  was  certainly  in  this  il- 
lumination that  he  himself  saw  it,  as  the  opening 
sentence  of  his  antobiography  proves  :  "  My  life  is 
a  lovely  fairy-tale,  happy  and  full  of  incidents/' 

The  softness,  the  sweetness,  the  juvenile  inno- 
cence of  Danish  romanticism  found  their  happiest 
expression  in  him  ;  but  also  the  superficiality,  the 
lack  of  steel  in  the  will,  the  lyrical  vagueness  and 
irresponsibility.  If  he  did  not  invent  a  new  liter- 
ary form  he  at  all  events  enriched  and  dignified 
an  old  one,  and  revealed  in  it  a  world  of  unsus- 
pected beauty.  He  was  great  in  little  things,  and 
little  in  great  things.  He  had  a  heart  of  gold,  a 
silver  tongue,  and  the  spine  of  a  mollusk.  Like  a 
flaw  in  a  diamond,  a  curious  plebeian  streak  cut 
straight  across  his  nature.  With  all  his  virtues  he 
lacked  that  higher  self-esteem  which  we  call  nobil- 
ity. 


CONTEMPORARY   DANISH 
LITERATURE 


CONTEMPORARY    DANISH    LITERA^ 
TURE 

THE  late  Eomantic  authors  of  Denmark  who 
lived  on  the  traditions  of  Oehlenschliiger's 
time  and  the  aesthetieal  doctrines  of  J.  L.  Heiberg, 
have  gradually  been  passing  away ;  and  a  new 
generation  has  grown  up,  which,  though  it  knows 
JoseiDh,  has  repudiated  his  doctrine.  A  period  of 
stagnation  followed  the  disappearance  of  the  Eo- 
manticists.  The  Sleswick-Holstein  war  of  1866, 
and  the  consequent  hostility  to  Germany,  cut  off 
the  intellectual  intercourse  between  the  two  coun- 
tries which  in  the  first  half  of  the  century  had 
been  lively  and  intimate ;  and  as,  for  a  while,  no 
new  ties  were  formed,  a  respectable  dulness  set- 
tled upon  the  little  island  kingdom.  People  lived 
for  the  concerns  of  the  day,  earned  their  bread 
and  butter,  amused  themselves  to  the  best  of  their 
ability,  but  troubled  themselves  very  little  about 
the  battles  of  thought  which  were  being  fought 
upon  the  great  arena  of  the  world.  The  literary 
activity  which  now  and  then  flared  up  spasmodi- 
cally, like  flames  over  a  smouldering  ash-heap, 
flickered  and  half-expired  for  want  of  fresh  sus- 


1 8  2  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

tenance.  A  direfully  conventional  romanticist,  H. 
F.  Ewald  (1821-1892),  wrote  voluminous  modern 
and  historical  novels,  the  heroines  of  which  were 
usually  models  of  all  the  copy-book  virtues,  and  the 
heroes  as  bloodless  as  their  brave  and  loyal  proto- 
types in  "  Ivanhoe  "  and  "  Waverley."  Instead  of 
individualizing  his  dramatis  personce  this  feeble 
successor  of  Ingemann  and  Walter  Scott  gave 
them  a  certificate  of  character,  vouching  for  their 
goodness  or  badness,  and  trusting  the  reader  to 
take  his  word  for  it  in  either  case.  Like  many 
another  popular  novelist,  he  varnished  them  with 
the  particular  tint  of  excellence  or  depravity  that 
might  suit  his  purpose,  stuffed  their  heads  with 
bran  and  their  bellies  with  sawdust,  but  troubled 
himself  little  about  what  lay  beneath  the  epider- 
mis. There  was  something  naive  and  juvenile  in 
his  view  of  life  which  appealed  to  the  large  mass 
of  half-educated  people ;  and  the  very  absence  of 
any  subtle  literary  art  tended  further  to  increase 
his  public.  Many  of  his  books,  notably  "  The 
Youth  of  Yaldemar  Krone  "  ( Valdemar  Krone's 
Ungdomshistorie),  "The  Swedes  at  Kronborg^' 
{Svenskerne  paa  Kronh(yrg),  have  achieved  an  ex- 
traordinary success.  The  former  deals  with  con- 
temporary life,  while  the  latter  expurgates  and 
embellishes  history  after  the  manner  of  Walter 
Scott.  Two  subsequent  novels,  "  The  Family 
Nordby  "  and  "  Joliannes  Falk,"  are,  like  all  of 
Ewald's  writings,  pervaded  by  a  robust  optimism 
and  a  warm  Danish  sentiment,  which  in  a  large 


CONTEMPORARY  DANISH  LITERATURE     1 83 

measure  account  for  their  popularity  witli  tlie 
public  of  the  circulating  libraries. 

A  lesser  share  of  the  same  kind  of  popularity 
has  fallen  to  the  lot  of  an  author  of  a  much  higher 
order — Wilhelm  Bergsoe  (born  1835).  His  volumi- 
nous novel  "  Fra  Piazza  del  Popolo"  (1866)  made  a 
sensation  \\\  its  day,  and  "From  the  Old  Factory^' 
(1869),  which  constructively  is  a  maturer  book,  is 
likewise  full  of  fascination.  The  description  of 
the  doings  of  the  artistic  guild  in  Rome,  which 
occupies  a  considerable  portion  of  the  former  work, 
is  delightful,  though  intermingled  with  a  deal  of 
superfluous  mysticism  and  romantic  entanglements 
which  were  then  held  to  be  absolutely  indispen- 
sable. "In  the  Sabine  Mountains"  (1871),  the 
scene  of  which  is  laid  in  Genazzano  during  the 
struggle  for  Italian  independence,  is  a  trifle  too 
prolix  ;  and  its  effect  is  lessened  by  the  old-fash- 
ioned epistolary  form.  Signer  Carnevale,  the 
revolutionary  apothecary,  is,  however,  a  very 
amusing  figure,  and  would  be  still  better  if  he  were 
not  caricatured.  The  tendency  to  screw  the  char- 
acters up  above  the  normal — to  tune  them  up  to 
concert  pitch  as  it  were — interferes  seriously  with 
the  pleasure  which  the  book  otherwise  might 
yield. 

The  conception  of  art  as  something  wholly  dis- 
tinct from  and  above  nature  animates  all  Berg- 
soe's  productions.  The  theory  of  fiction  which  E. 
L.  Stevenson  has  so  eloquently  pro]3ounded  has 
found  an  able  practitioner  in  him.     For  all  that. 


1 84  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

I  am  indebted  to  Bergsoe's  two  Italian  romances  for 
a  great  deal  of  enjoyment,  the  afterglow  of  which 
still  warms  my  memory.  But  that  was  long  ago. 
A  young  man  is  apt  to  enjoy  in  a  book  quite  as 
much  what  he  himself  supplies  as  that  which  the 
author  has  deposited  therein.  Each  word  is  a 
key  which  unlocks  a  store  of  imprisoned  emotions. 
The  very  word  Italy  has  a  magic  which  imparts 
to  it  a  charm  even  in  the  geography.  And 
Bergsoe,  though  he  works,  without  suspicion  of 
its  decrepitude,  the  ancient  machinery  of  Italian 
romance,  is  unaffectedly  eloquent  and  unsophis- 
tically  entertaining.  The  historic  whisperings 
which  he  catches  from  the  names,  the  ruins,  the 
facial  types,  and  the  very  trees  and  grass  of  Genaz- 
zano  invest  his  letters  from  that  picturesque  neigh- 
borhood with  a  certain  beautiful  glow  of  color  and 
a  dusky  richness  of  decay.  The  autobiographical 
form  imposes,  to  be  sure,  an  increasing  strain  on 
the  reader's  credulity,  as  the  plot  thickens,  and 
we  find  ourselves,  half-unexpectedly,  involved  in  a 
lurid  tale  of  monks,  priests,  disguised  revolution- 
ists, cruel,  mercenary  fathers,  etc.,  and  the  Danish 
author  playing  his  favorite  role,  of  deusex  macJiina. 
Still  more  incredible  is  the  part  of  benevolent 
Providence  which  he  assigns  to  himself  in  "  The 
Bride  of  Eorvig,"  where  he  saves  the  heroine's  life 
by  restoring  to  her  a  ring  given  to  her  lover,  and 
thus  assuring  her  that  he  is  alive  when  she  believes 
him  dead.  The  autobiographical  story  (especially 
when   the   writer  is  a  mere  convenient  supernu- 


CONTEMPORARY  DAAUSH  LITERATURE     1 85 

merary,  designed,  like  the  uncle  from  America 
in  the  old-fashioned  melodrama,  to  straighten  out 
the  tangled  skein),  is  apt  to  involve  other  difficulties 
than  the  mere  embarrassment  of  having  to  distrust 
the  author's  assertion,  or  censure  his  indiscretions. 
The  illusion  is  utterly  spoiled  by  that  haunting 
arrQre  pens^e  that  this  or  that  Avriter,  whom  you 
know  perhaps  at  first  or  second-hand,  or  whose 
features,  at  all  events,  are  familiar  to  you  from 
pictures,  never  could  or  would  have  played  the 
more  or  less  heroic  role  with  which  he  here  de- 
lights to  impose  upon  you. 

Altogether  the  best  book  which  Bergsoe  has 
written  is  the  autobiographical  romance  "  From 
the  Old  Factory,"  the  scene  of  which  is  laid  in 
Denmark.  This  book  evidently  contains  a  great 
deal  of  genuine  reminiscence,  and  is  therefore  de- 
void of  that  air  of  laborious  contrivance  and  arti- 
ficial intrigue  which  brings  the  foregoing  novels 
into  such  unpleasant  relationship  with  Wilkie 
Collins  and  his  genre.  The  incidents  of  the  hero's 
boyhood  in  the  old  porcelain  factory,  and  his 
uncle's  agitating  experiments  for  the  rediscovery 
of  a  lost  process  of  glazing  are  saner  and  soberer 
and  lie  closer  to  the  soil  of  common  experience 
than  the  exploits  of  monks  and  pirates  and  revolu- 
tionists. 

Among  the  notable  men  of  the  expiring  Danish 
romanticism  Meyer  Aaron  Goldschmidt  (1819- 
1886)  holds  a  leading  position,  A  comic  paper, 
Corsaren,   which  he  edited   (18'40-1846)  made  a 


1 86     SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

tremendous  stir  in  its  day  ;  and  its  scathing  wit 
and  satire  were  not  without  influence  upon  cur- 
rent events.  His  two  novels.  En  Jode  (1845), 
Hjemlus  (1857),  and  a  large  number  of  clever 
novelettes  {Ravnen,  Arvingen  Flyveposten,  etc.), 
are  full  of  psychological  subtleties,  and  often  charm- 
ingly told.  Flyveiiosten  ("  The  Flying  Mail ")  was 
translated  into  English  (Boston  and  Cambridge, 
1870)  but  attracted  no  particular  attention.  For  all 
that,  Goldschmidt,  in  spite  of  occasional  prolix- 
ity, stands  the  test  of  time  remarkably  well.  His 
Jewish  stories,  notably  Maser,  Aron  og  Esther,  and 
En  Jode,  contain  a  higher  order  of  work,  though 
less  dramatically  effective,  than  that  of  Sacher- 
Masoch,  and  Emil  Franzos,  and  the  later  Ghetto 
romancers.  Goldschmidt's  double  nationality,  as  a 
Danish-born  Jew,  indicates  his  position  and  the 
source  from  which  he  drew  his  weakness  and  his 
strength.  As  a  Jew  he  saw  and  judged  the  Danish 
character,  and  as  a  Dane  he  saw  and  judged  t^e 
Jewish  character  with  a  liberality  and  insight  of 
which  no  autochthon  would  have  been  capable. 
For  all  that  his  tales  aroused  anything  but  friend- 
ly feelings  among  his  own  people.  They  felt  it  to 
be  a  profanation  thus  to  expose  the  secluded  do- 
mestic and  religious  life  of  the  children  of  Israel. 
It  is  to  this  sentiment  that  Dr.  Brandes  has  given 
utterance  in  his  protest  against  ''perpetually  serv- 
ing up  one's  grandmother  with  sauce  piquante." 

An  author  who  is  born  into  an  age  of  transition, 
when  old  faiths  are  passing  away  and  new  ones 


CONTEMPORARY  DANISH  LITERATURE     1 87 

are  struggling  for  recognition,  is  placed  in  a  seri- 
ous dilemma.  Where  he  makes  his  choice  by 
mere  temperamental  bias,  he  is  apt  to  miss  that 
element  of  growth  which  is  involved  in  every 
spiritual  struggle.  But  if,  as  is  so  frequently  the 
case,  he  finds  his  choice  in  a  measure  made  for 
him,  his  education,  kinships,  and  worldly  advan- 
tage identifying  him  with  the  established  order, 
it  takes  a  tremendous  amount  of  courage  and  char- 
acter to  break  away  from  old  moorings  and  steer, 
without  other  compass  than  a  sensitive  conscience, 
toward  the  rosy  dawn  of  the  unknown.  There 
was  a  desperate  need  of  such  men  in  Denmark  in 
the  seventies,  when  the  little  kingdom  was  sinking 
deeply  and  more  deeply  into  a  bog  of  patriotic  de- 
lusion and  siDiritual  stagnation.  An  infusion  of 
new  blood  was  needed — a  re-establishment  of  that 
circulation  of  thought  which  keeps  the  whole 
civilized  world  in  vital  connection  and  makes  it 
akin.  No  country  can  cut  itself  off  from  this 
universal  world-life  without  withering  like  a  dis- 
eased limb.  The  man  who  undertook  to  bring 
Denmark  again  into  rapport  with  Europe  was  Dr. 
Georg  Brandes,  whom  I  have  characterized  at 
length  in  another  essay.  It  was  his  admirable 
book,  "  The  Men  of  the  Modern  Transition  "  (trans- 
lated into  German  under  the  title  Moderne  Geister) 
which  impelled  me,  some  years  ago,  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  the  three  authors  who  represent 
whatever  there  is  of  promise  in  contemporary 
Danish  literature,  viz.,  >Soplms  Schandorph,  Hoi- 


1 88  SCANDINAVIAN  IITERATURE 

ger  Draclimann,  and  J.  P.  Jacobsen.  The  last 
named,  who  died  (1884)  in  the  flower  of  his  young 
manhood,  is,  perhaps,  not  in  the  strictest  sense 
contemporary.  But  he  is  indispensable  to  the 
characterization  of  the  group. 

Widely  different  as  these  three  men  are  in  al- 
most everything,  they  have  this  in  common,  that 
they  have  deeply  breathed  the  air  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  ;  and  they  all  show  more  or  less  the 
influence  of  Brandes.  That  this  influence  has  been 
direct  and  personal  seems  probable  from  the  rela- 
tion which  they  have  sustained  to  the  revolutionary 
critics.  Of  this  I  am,  however,  by  no  means  sure. 
Mr.  Jacobsen,  wlio  was  by  profession  a  botanist, 
and  translated  Darwin  into  Danish,  no  doubt 
came  by  his  "  advanced  views  "  at  first  hand.  In 
the  case  of  Schandorjjh  it  is  more  difficult  to 
judge.  He  is  an  excellent  linguist,  and  may  have 
had  access  to  the  same  sources  from  which  Brandes 
drew  his  strength.  Drachmann  is  so  vacillating 
in  his  tendencies  that  he  refuses  to  be  permanently 
classified  in  any  scliool  of  art  or  thought.  Of  tlie 
three,  Schandorph  seems  altogether  tlie  maturest 
mind  and  furnishes  the  most  finished  and  satis- 
factory work.  In  his  novel  "  Without  a  Centre  " 
(  JJden  Midtjnmht)  the  reader  feels  himself  at  once 
face  to  face  with  an  interesting  and  considerable 
personality.  He  has  that  sense  of  surprise  and  de- 
lighted expectation  which  only  the  masters  of 
fiction  are  apt  to  evoke.  It  is  a  story  of  a  Danisli 
national   type — the  conversational   artist.     In  no 


COXTRMPORARY  DANISH  LITERATURE     1 89 

country  in  the  world  is  there  snch  a  conversational 
fury  as  in  Denmark.  A  people  has,  of  course,  to 
do  something  with  its  surplus  energy  ;  and  as  po- 
litical opposition  is  sure  to  prove  futile,  there  is 
nothing  left  to  do  but  to  talk — not  only  politics, 
but  art,  poetry,  religion,  in  fact,  everything  under 
the  sun.  At  the  time,  however,  when  Albrecht, 
the  hero  of  "  Without  a  Centre,"  plied  his  nimble 
tongue,  the  country  had  a  more  liberal  Govern- 
ment, and  criticism  of  the  Ministry  was  not  yet 
high  treason.  But  centuries  of  repression  and  the 
practical  exclusion  of  the  bourgeoisie  from  public 
life  were  undoubtedly  the  fundamental  causes 
of  this  abnormal  conversational  activity.  There 
is  something  soft  and  emotional  in  the  character 
of  the  Danes,  which  distinguishes  them  from 
their  Norwegian  and  Swedish  kinsmen — an  easily 
flowing  lyrical  vein,  which  imparts  a  winning 
warmth  and  cordiality  to  their  demeanor.  So- 
cially they  are  the  most  charming  people  in  the 
world.  Also  in  this  respect  Albrecht  is  tyj)ical, 
and  the  songs  in  which  he  gives  vent  to  his  lyrical 
moods  have  such  a  rapturous  melody  that  they 
keej)  humming  in  the  brain  long  after  the  reader 
has  closed  the  book.  It  almost  follows  as  a  psy- 
chological necessity  that  a  man  so  richly  endowed 
with  the  gift  of  speech  is  feeble  and  halting  in 
action.  Like  Tourgueneli's  ''  Rudin,"  who  suf- 
fered from  the  same  malady,  he  gains  by  the  brill- 
iancy and  novelty  of  his  speech  the  love  of  a  noble 
young  girl,  who,  taking  his  phrases  at  their  face 


1 90     SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

value,  believes  his  heart  to  be  as  heroic  as  his 
tongue.  Like  him,  too,  he  fails  in  the  critical  mo- 
ment ;  nay,  restrained  by  petty  scruples,  he  even 
stays  away  from  the  rendezvous,  and  by  his 
cowardice  loses  what  by  his  eloquence  he  had 
won. 

A  second  novel,  "  Common  People,"  which  deals 
with  low  life  in  its  most  varied  phases,  shows  the 
same  admirable  truthfulness  and  exactness  in  the 
character  drawing,  the  same  refreshing  humor  and 
universal  sympathy  and  comprehension.  "  The 
Story  of  Thomas  Friis  "  undertakes  to  show,  in  the 
career  of  a  Danish  youth  who  is  meant  to  be  typi- 
cal, the  futility  of  the  vainglorious  imaginings 
with  which  the  little  nation  has  inflated  itself  to  a 
size  out  of  proportion  to  its  actual  historic  role. 
In  "  The  Old  Pharmacy  "  the  necessity  of  facing 
the  changed  reality  of  the  modern  world,  instead 
of  desperately  hugging  an  expiring  past,  is  en- 
forced in  a  series  of  vivid  and  vigorous  pictures  of 
provincial  life.  ''  The  Forester's  Children,"  which 
is  one  of  the  latest  of  this  author's  novels,  suffers 
by  comparison  with  its  predecessors,  but  is  yet  full 
of  cleverness  and  smacks  of  the  soil. 

Schandorph's  naturalism  is  not  pathological ; 
not  in  the  nature  of  an  autopsy  or  a  diagnosis  of 
disease.  It  is  full-blooded  and  vigorous — not  par- 
ticularly squeamish — but  always  fresh  and  whole- 
some. His  shorter  tales  and  sketches  ("  From  the 
Province,"  ''Five  Stories,"  ''Novelettes")  are  of 
more  unequal  merit,    but    are  all  more  or    less 


CONTEMPORARY  DANISH  LITERATURE     I9I 

strongly  cliaracterized  by  the  qualities  wliicli  fas- 
cinate in  his  novels.  Of  liis  poems  "  Samlede 
Digte"  1882)  I  have  not  the  space  to  speak,  and 
can  only  regret  that  they  are  written  in  a  language 
in  which  they  will  remain  as  hidden  from  the 
world  as  if  they  had  been  imprinted  in  cuneiform 
inscriptions  upon  Assyrian  bricks.  They  are 
largely  occasional  and  polemical  ;  and  more  re- 
markable for  vigor  of  thought  than  sweetness  of 
melody. 

J.  P.  Jacobsen,  the  second  in  the  group  to 
which  I  have  referred,  was  a  colorist  of  a  very 
eminent  type,  both  in  prose  and  verse ;  but  his 
talent  lacked  that  free-flowing,  spontaneous  abun- 
dance— that  charming  air  of  improvisation — with 
which  Schandorph  captivates  his  reader,  takes  him 
into  his  confidence,  and  overwhelms  him  with  en- 
tertainment. Jacobsen  painted  faces  better  than 
he  did  souls ;  or,  rather,  he  did  not  seem  to  think 
the  latter  worth  painting,  unless  they  exhibited 
some  abnormal  mood  or  trait.  There  is  something 
forced  and  morbid  in  his  people — a  lack  of  free 
movement  and  natural  impulse.  His  principal 
work,  *' Mistress  Marie  Grubbe,"  is  a  series  of  anx- 
iously finished  pictures,  carefully  executed  in  the 
minutest  details,  but  failing  somehow  to  make  a 
complete  impression.  Each  scene  is  so  bewilder- 
ingly  surcharged  with  color  that,  as  in  the  case  of 
a  Gobelin  tapestry,  one  has  to  be  at  a  distance  be- 
fore one  discovers  the  design.  There  is  something 
almost  wearisome   in  the  far-fetched  words  with 


192  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

which  he  piles  up  picturesque  effects,  returning 
every  now  and  then  to  put  in  an  extra  touch — to 
tip  a  feather  with  light,  to  brighten  the  sheen  of 
his  satins,  to  polish  the  steely  lustre  of  swords  and 
armors.  Yet,  if  one  takes  the  time  to  linger  over 
these  unusual  words  and  combinations  of  words, 
one  is  likely  to  find  that  they  are  strong  and  ap- 
propriate. All  conventional  shop-work  he  dis- 
dained ;  the  traditional  phrases  for  eyes,  lips,  brow, 
and  hair  were  discarded,  not  necessarily  because 
they  were  bad,  but  because  by  much  use  they  have 
lost  their  freshness.  They  have  come  to  be  mere 
sounds,  and  no  longer  call  up  vivid  conceptions. 
An  author  who  has  the  skill  and  the  courage  to 
undertake  this  repolishing  and  resharpening  of  the 
tools  of  language  is,  indeed,  a  public  benefactor  ; 
but  it  requires  the  finest  linguistic  taste  and  dis- 
crimination to  do  it  with  success.  Most  authors 
are  satisfied  if  they  succeed  in  giving  currency  to 
one  happy  phrase  involving  a  novel  use  of  the  lan- 
guage, or  to  an  extremely  limited  number  ;  I  know 
of  no  one  who  has  undertaken  the  renovation  of 
his  mother-tongue  on  so  extensive  a  scale  as  Ja- 
cobsen.  To  say  that  he  has  in  most  cases  done  it 
well  is,  therefore,  high  praise.  "  Mistress  Marie 
Grubbe  "  is  not,  however,  easy  reading  ;  and  the 
author's  novelettes,  entitled  '^  Mogens  and  Other 
Stories,"  seem  to  be  written,  jn-imarily,  for  literary 
connoisseurs,  as  their  interest  as  mere  stories  is 
scarcely  worth  considering.  They  are,  rather, 
essays  in  the  art  of  saying  things  unusually  and 


CONTEMPORARY  DANISH  LITERATURE     193 

yet  well.  They  do  not  seem  to  me,  even  in  this 
respect,  a  success.  There  are  single  phrases  that 
seem  almost  an  inspiration  ;  there  are  bits  of  de- 
scription, particularly  of  flowers  and  moods  of  nat- 
ure, which  are  masterly ;  but  the  studious  avoid- 
ance of  the  commonplace  imparts  to  the  reader 
something  of  the  strain  under  which  the  author 
has  labored.  He  begins  to  feel  the  sympathetic 
weariness  which  often  overcomes  one  while  watch- 
ing acrobatic  feats. 

In  Jacobsen's  third  book,  ''Niels  Lyhne,"  we 
have  again  the  story  of  a  Danish  Eudin — a  nature 
with  a  multitude  of  scattered  aspirations,  squan- 
dering itself  in  brilliant  talk  and  fantastic  yearn- 
ings. It  is  the  same  coquetting  with  the  "ad- 
vanced "  ideas  of  the  age,  the  same  lack  of  mental 
stamina,  the  same  wretched  surrender  and  failure. 
It  is  the  complexion  of  a  period  which  the  author 
is  here  attempting  to  give,  and  he  takes  pains  to 
emphasize  its  typical  character.  One  is  almost 
tempted  to  believe  that  Shakespeare,  by  a  gift  of 
hapj)y  divination,  made  his  Prince  of  Denmark 
conform  to  this  national  type,  though  in  his  day  it 
could  not  have  been  half  as  pronounced  as  it  is 
now.  Whether  the  Dane  of  the  sixteenth  century 
was  yet  the  eloquent  mollusk  which  we  are  per- 
petually encountering  in  modern  Danish  fiction  is 
a  question  which,  at  this  distance,  it  is  hard  to 
decide.  The  type,  of  course,  is  universal,  and  is 
to  be  found  in  all  countries.  Only  in  the  Eng- 
lish race,  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic,  it  is  com- 
13 


1 94  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURK 

paratively  rare.  That  a  vigorous  race  like  the 
Danish,  confined,  as  it  is  in  modern  times,  within 
a  narrow  arena  of  action  (and  forbidden  to  do  any- 
thing on  that),  shoukl  have  developed  it  to  a  rare 
perfection  seems,  as  I  have  already  remarked,  al- 
most a  psychological  necessity. 

Holger  Drachmann,  in  his  capacity  of  lyrist,  has 
also  a  strain  of  the  Hamlet  nature ;  although,  in 
the  case  of  a  poet,  whose  verses  are  in  themselves 
deeds,  the  assertion  contains  no  re^Jroach.  I  am 
not  even  sure  that  the  Protean  quality  of  Drach- 
mann's  verse — its  frequent  voicing  of  naturally 
conflicting  tendencies — need  be  a  matter  of  re- 
proach. A  poet  has  the  right  to  sing  in  any  key 
in  which  he  can  sing  well ;  and  Drachmann  sings, 
as  a  rule,  exceedingly  well.  But,  like  most  peo- 
ple with  a  fine  voice,  he  is  tempted  to  sing  too 
much  ;  and  it  thus  happens  that  verses  of  slipshod 
and  hasty  workmanship  are  to  be  found  in  his  vol- 
umes. In  his  first  book  of  ''  Poems  "  he  was  a 
free  oppositional  lance,  who  carried  on  a  melodi- 
ous warfare  against  antiquated  institutions  and 
opinions,  and  gave  a  thrust  here  and  a  thrust  there 
in  behalf  of  socialists,  communists,  and  all  sorts  of 
irregular  characters.  Since  that  time  his  radical, 
revolutionary  sympathies  have  had  time  to  cool, 
and  in  each  succeeding  volume  he  has  appeared 
more  sedate,  conservative,  hourgeois."^  In  a  later 
volume  of  poems  this  transformation  is  half  sym- 

*  Since  this  was  written  Drachmann  has  undergone  a  fresh 
transformation,  and  is  said  to  have  returned  to  the  radical  camp. 


CONTEMPORARY  DANISH  LITERATURE     I95 

bolically  indicated  in  the  title,  '^  Tempered  Melo- 
dies/' Nor  is  it  to  be  denied  tliat  his  melodies 
have  gained  in  beauty  by  this  process  of  temjoer- 
ing.  There  is  a  wider  range  of  feeling,  greater 
charm  of  expression,  and  a  deeper  resonance. 
Half  a  dozen  volumes  of  verse  which  he  has  pub- 
lished since  ("Songs  of  the  Ocean,"  "Venezia," 
"Vines  and  Roses,"  "  Youth  in  Verse  and  Song," 
"  Peder  Tordenskjold,"  "  Deep  Chords  ")  are  of 
very  unequal  worth,  but  establish  beyond  question 
their  author's  right  to  be  named  among  the  few 
genuine  poets  of  the  latter  half  of  the  nineteenth 
century ;  nay,  more  than  that,  he  belongs  in  the 
foremost  rank  of  those  who  are  yet  surviving.  His 
prose,  on  the  other  hand,  seems  aimless  and  cha- 
otic, and  is  not  stamped  with  any  eminent  charac- 
teristics. A  volume  of  short  stories,  entitled 
"  Wild  and  Tame,"  partakes  very  much  more  of 
the  latter  adjective  than  of  the  former.  The  first 
of  the  tales,  "Inclined  Planes,"  is  a  discursive 
family  chronicle,  showing  the  decadence  of  a  fish- 
ing village  under  the  influence  of  city  boarders. 
The  second,  "  Love  and  Despatches,"  inculcates  a 
double  moral,  the  usefulness  of  economy  and  the 
nselessness  of  mothers  -  in  -  law  ;  and  the  third, 
"The  Cutter  AVild  Duck,"  is  a  shudderingly  in- 
sipid composition  about  a  village  lion  who  got 
drunk  on  his  birthday,  fell  overboard,  and  com- 
mitted no  end  of  follies.  A  later  volume  of  "  Lit- 
tle Tales "  is,  indeed,  so  little  as  scarcely  to  have 
any  excuse  for  being.     The  stories  have  all  more 


igG  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

or  less  of  a  marine  flavor ;  but  the  only  one  of 
them  that  has  a  sufficient  motif,  rationally  devel- 
oj)ed,  is  one  entitled  '^How  the  Pilot  Got  his 
Music-box."  The  novel,  "A  "Supernumerary/' 
is  also  a  rather  weak  performance,  badly  construct- 
ed, and  overloaded  with  chaotic  incidents. 

Volund  Sniecl  (1895)  is  a  cycle  of  spirited  poems 
dealing  with  the  tragic  fate  of  Weland  the  Smith, 
who  took  such  a  savage  vengeance  upon  the  King 
for  having  maimed  and  crippled  him.  The  legend 
is  invested  with  an  obvious  symbolic  significance, 
and  seems  to  have  been  intended  as  a  poetic  decla- 
ration of  independence — a  revolutionary  manifesto 
signalizing  the  Drachmann's  re-espousal  of  the  rad- 
ical opinions  of  his  youth,  in  his  allegiance  to  which 
he  had,  perhaps,  out  of  regard  for  worldly  advan- 
tages been  inclined  to  waver. 


GEORG   BRANDES 


GEORG  BRANDES 

IT  is  a  greater  achievement  in  a  critic  to  gain  an 
international  fame  than  in  a  poet  or  a  writer 
of  fiction.  The  world  is  always  more  ready  to  be 
amused  than  to  be  instructed,  and  the  literary  pur- 
veyor of  amusement  has  opportunities  for  fame  ten 
times  greater  than  those  which  fall  to  thef  lot  of 
the  literary  instructor.  The  epic  delight — the  de- 
light in  fable  and  story — to  which  the  former  ap- 
peals, is  a  fundamental  trait  in  human  nature  ;  it 
appears  full  grown  in  the  child,  and  has  small  need 
of  cultivation.  But  the  faculty  of  generalization 
to  which  the  critic  appeals  is  indicative  of  a  stage 
of  intellectual  development  to  which  only  a  small 
minority  even  of  our  so-called  cultivated  public  at- 
tains. It  is  therefore  a  minority  of  a  minority 
which  he  addresses,  the  intellectual  elite  which 
does  the  world's  thinking.  To  impress  these  is  far 
more  difficult  than  to  impress  the  multitude  ;  for 
they  are  already  surfeited  with  good  writing,  and 
are  apt  to  reject  with  a  shoulder-shrug  whatever 
does  not  coincide  with  their  own  tenor  of  thought. 
What  I  mean  by  a  critic  in  this  connection  is  not 
a  witty  and  agreeable  causeur,  like  the  late  Jules 
Janin,  who,  taking  a  book  for  his  text,  discoursed 


200  SCA  NDINA  VIA  Isf  LITER  A  TURE 

entertainingly  about  everything  under  the  sun ; 
but  an  interpreter  of  a  civilization  and  a  rej)resen- 
tative  of  a  school  of  thought  who  sheds  new  light 
upon  old  phenomena — men  like  Lessing,  Matthew 
Arnold,  and  Taine.  The  latest  candidate  for  ad- 
mission to  this  company,  whose  title,  I  think,  no 
one  who  has  read  him  will  dispute,  is  the  Dane, 
Georg  Brandes. 

Dr.  Brandes  was  born  in  Copenhagen  in  1842, 
and  is  accordingly  fifty-three  years  of  age  (1895). 
At  the  age  of  seventeen  he  entered  the  University 
of  his  native  city,  devoting  himself  first  to  juris- 
prudence, and  occupying  himself  later  with  philo- 
sophical and  gesthetical  studies.  In  1862  he  gained 
the  gold  medal  of  the  University  by  an  essay  on 
"  Fatalism  among  the  Ancients,"  which  showed  a 
surprising  brilliancy  of  expression  and  maturity  of 
thought ;  and  soon  after  he  passed  his  examination 
for  the  doctorate  of  philosophy  with  the  highest 
distinction.  It  is  told  that  the  old  poet  Hauch, 
who  was  then  Professor  of  Esthetics  at  the  Uni- 
versity, was  so  much  impressed  by  the  young  doc- 
tor's ability  that  he  hoped  to  make  him  his  succes- 
sor. And  toward  this  end  Dr.  Brandes  began  to 
bend  his  energies.  During  the  next  five  or  six 
years  he  travelled  on  the  Continent,  spending  the 
winter  of  1865  in  Stockholm,  that  of  1866-67  in 
Paris,  and  sojourning,  moreover,  for  longer  or 
shorter  periods  in  the  principal  cities  of  Germany. 
He  became  a  most  accomplished  linguist,  speaking 
French  and  German  almost  as  fluently  as  his  mother- 


GEORG  BR  ANDES  20I 

tongue  ;  and,  being  an  acute  observer  as  well  as  an 
earnest  student,  lie  acquired  an  equipment  for  the 
position  to  which  he  aspired  which  distanced  all 
competitors.  But  in  Denmark,  as  elsewhere,  cos- 
mopolitan culture  does  not  constitute  the  strongest 
claim  to  a  professorship.  In  his  book,  "  The  Dual- 
ism in  Our  Most  Eecent  Philosophy"  (1866), 
Brandes  took  up  the  dangerous  question  of  the  rela- 
tion of  science  to  religion,  and  treated  it  in  a  spirit 
which  aroused  antagonism  on  the  part  of  the  con- 
servative and  orthodox  party. 

This  able  treatise,  though  it  may  not  be  positiv- 
ism pure  and  simple,  shows  a  preponderating  in- 
fluence of  Comte  and  his  school,  and  its  attitude 
toward  religion  is  approximately  that  of  Herbert 
Spencer  and  Stuart  Mill.  The  constellation  under 
which  Brandes  was  born  into  the  world  of  thought 
was  made  up  of  the  stars  Darwin,  Comte,  Taine, 
and  Mill.  These  men  put  their  stamp  upon  his 
spirit ;  and  to  the  tendency  which  they  represent 
he  was  for  many  years  faithful.  Mill's  book  on 
"  The  Subjection  of  Women "  he  has  translated 
into  Danish  (1869),  and  he  has  written  besides  a 
charmingly  sympathetic  essay,  containing  personal 
reminiscences,  of  that  grave  and  conscientious 
thinker,  whose  "  Autobiograpliy "  is  perhaps  the 
saddest  book  in  the  English  language. 

The  three  next  books  of  Brandes,  which  all 
deal  with  assthetical  subjects  ('^^  ^Esthetic  Stud- 
ies," 1868,  "  Criticisms  and  Portraits,"  1870,  and 
"  French  Esthetics  at  the  Present  Day  "),  are  full 


202  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

of  pith  and  winged  felicities  of  phrase.  It  is  a 
delight  to  read  them.  The  passage  of  Scripture 
often  occurs  to  me  when  I  take  up  these  earlier 
works  of  Brandes  :  "He  rejoiceth  like  a  strong 
man  to  run  a  race."  He  handles  language  with 
the  zest  and  vigor  of  conscious  mastery.  There  is 
no  shade  of  meaning  which  is  so  subtle  as  to  elude 
his  grip.  Things  which  I  should  have  said,  a 
^priori,  were  impossible  to  express  in  Danish  he 
expresses  with  scarcely  a  sign  of  effort ;  and  how- 
ever new  and  surprising  his  phrase  is,  it  is  never 
awkward,  never  cumbrous,  never  apparently  con- 
scious of  its  brilliancy. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  these  linguistic  excel- 
lences are  characteristic  only  of  Dr.  Brandes's 
earlier  works ;  but,  either  because  he  has  accus- 
tomed us  to  expect  much  of  him  in  this  respect,  or 
because  he  has  come  to  regard  such  brilliancy  as  of 
minor  consequence,  it  is  a  fact  that  two  of  his  latest 
books  ("Impressions  of  Poland '^  and  "Impres- 
sions of  Russia  ")  contain  fewer  memorable  phrases, 
fewer  winged  words,  fewer  mots  with  a  flavor  of 
Gallic  wit.  Intellectually  these  "  Impressions  " 
are  no  less  weighty ;  nay,  they  are  more  weighty 
than  anything  from  the  same  pen  that  has  pre- 
ceded them.  They  show  a  faculty  to  enter  sympa- 
thetically into  an  alien  civilization,  to  seize  upon 
its  characteristic  phases,  to  steal  into  its  confidence, 
as  it  were,  and  coax  from  it  its  intimate  secrets  ; 
and  they  exhibit,  moreover,  an  acuteness  of  obser- 
vation and  an  appreciation  of  significant  trifles  (or 


GEORG  BRANDES  203 

wliat  to  a  superficial  observer  might  appear  trifles) 
which  no  previous  work  on  the  Slavonic  nations 
had  disj)layed.  It  is  obvious  that  Dr.  Brandes 
here  shuns  the  linguistic  pyrotechnics  in  which, 
for  instance,  De  Amicis  indulges  in  his  pictures  of 
Holland  and  the  Orient.  It  is  the  matter,  rather 
than  the  manner,  which  he  has  at  heart ;  and  he 
apparently  takes  a  curb  bit  between  his  teeth  in 
the  presence  of  the  Kremlin  of  Moscow  and  the 
palaces  of  St.  Petersburg,  in  order  to  restrain  mere 
pictorial  expression. 

Having  violated  chronology  in  speaking  of  these 
two  works  out  of  their  order,  I  shall  have  to  leap 
back  over  a  score  of  years  and  contemplate  once 
more  the  young  doctor  of  philosophy  who  returned 
to  Copenhagen  in  1872  and  began  a  course  of  trial 
lectures  at  the  University  on  modern  literature. 
The  lecturer  here  flies  his  agnostic  colors  from  be- 
ginning to  end.  He  treats  ''  The  Romantic  School 
in  Germany'^  as  Voltaire  treated  Rousseau — with 
sovereign  wit,  superior  intelligence,  but  scant  sym- 
pathy. At  the  same  time  he  penetrates  to  the 
fountains  of  life  which  infused  strength  into  the 
movement.  He  accounts  for  romanticism  as  the 
chairman  of  a  committee  de  lunaUco  inquirendo 
might  account  for  a  case  of  religious  mania. 

The  second  and  third  courses  of  lectures  (printed, 
like  the  first,  and  translated  into  German  by 
Strodtmann)  dealt  with  "  The  Literature  of  the 
French  Emigres"  and  "  The  Reaction  in  France." 
Here  the  critic  is  loss  unsympathetic,  not  because 


204  SCANDINAVIAiY  LITERATURE 

he  regards  the  mental  attitude  of  the  fugitives  from 
the  Revolution  with  approbation,  but  because  he 
has   an   intellectual   bias   in   favor   of   everything 
French.     Besides  having  a  certain  constitutional 
sympathy  with  the  clearness  and   vigor   of   style 
and  thought  which  distinguish  the  French,  Dr. 
Brandes  is  so  largely  indebted  to  French  science, 
philosophy,  and  art  that  it  would  be  strange  if  he 
did  not  betray  an  occasional  soup^on  of  partisan- 
ship.    His  treatment  of  Chateaubriand,  Benjamin 
Constant,  Madame  de  Stael,  Oberman,  Madame  de 
Kriidener,  and  all  the  queer  saints  and  scribbling 
sinners  of  that  period  is  as  entertaining  as  it  is  in- 
structive.    It  gives  one  the  spiritual  complexion 
of  the  period  in  clear  lines  and  vivid  colors,  which 
can  never  be  forgotten.     Nearly  all  that  makes 
France  France  is  to  be  found  in  these  volumes — its 
wit,  its  frivolity,  its  bright  daylight  sense,  contrast- 
ing so  strikingly  with  the  moonshiny  mysticism  of 
German   romanticism.     And   yet  France  has  its 
romanticism  too,  which  finds  vent  in  a  supercredu- 
lous  religiosity,  in  a  pictorial  sentimentalized  Chris- 
tianity, such  as  we  encounter  in  Chateaubriand's 
"  Genie  du  Christianisme  "  and  "  Les  Martyrs." 
It  is  with  literary  phenomena  of  this  order  that 
"  The  Reaction  in  France  "  particularly  deals. 

The  fourth  course  of  lectures,  entitled  ''  Byron 
and  his  Group,"  though  no  less  entertaining  than 
the  rest,  appears  to  me  less  satisfactory.  It  is  a 
clever  presentation  of  Byron's  case  against  the 
British  public  ;  but  the  case  of  the  British  against 


GEORG   BRANDES  20$ 

Byrou  is  inadequately  presented.  It  is  the  ^jlead- 
ing  of  an  able  advocate,  not  the  charge  of  an  im- 
partial jiidge.  Dr.  Brandes  has  so  profound  an 
admiration  for  the  man  who  dares  to  rebel  that  he 
fails  to  do  Justice  to  the  motives  of  society  in  pro- 
tecting itself  against  him.  It  is  not  to  be  denied 
that  the  iconoclast  may  be  in  the  right  and  society 
in  the  wrong  ;  but  it  is  by  no  means  a  foregone 
conclusion  that  such  is  the  case.  If  society  did  not, 
with  the  fierce  instinct  of  self-preservation,  guard 
its  traditional  morality  against  such  assailants  as 
Byron  and  Shelley,  civilization  would  suffer.  The 
conservative  bias  of  the  Philistine  (though  not  so 
outwardly  attractive)  is  no  less  valuable  as  a  factor 
in  civilization  than  the  iconoclastic  zeal  of  the  re- 
former. If  the  centrifugal  force  had  full  sway  in 
human  society,  without  being  counteracted  by  a 
centripetal  tendency,  anarchy  would  soon  prevail. 
I  cannot  (as  Dr.  Brandes  appears  to  do)  discover 
any  startling  merit  in  outraging  the  moral  sense  of 
the  community  in  which  one  lives  ;  and  though  I 
may  admit  that  a  man  who  was  capable  of  doing 
this  was  a  great  poet,  I  cannot  concede  that  the 
fact  of  his  being  a  great  poet  Justified  the  outrage. 
Nor  am  I  sure  that  Dr.  Brandes  means  to  imply  so 
much  ;  but  in  all  of  his  writings  there  is  manifested 
a  deep  sympathy  with  the  law-breaker  whose  Ti- 
tanic soul  refuses  to  be  bound  by  the  obligations  of 
morality  which  limit  the  freedom  of  ordinary  mor- 
tals. Only  petty  and  pusillanimous  souls,  accord- 
ing to  him,  submit  to  these  restraints  ;  the  heroic 


206  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

soul  breaks  tliem,  as  did  Byron  and  Shelley,  because 
lie  has  outgrown  them^,  or  because  he  is  too  great 
to  recognize  the  right  of  any  power  to  limit  his 
freedom  of  action  or  restrain  him  in  the  free  asser- 
tion of  his  individuality.  This  is  the  undertone 
in  everything  Dr.  Brandes  has  written ;  but  nowhere 
does  it  ring  out  more  boldly  than  in  his  treatment 
of  Byron  and  Shelley,  unless  it  be  in  the  fifth  course 
of  his  "  Main  Currents  "  dealing  with  ''  Young 
Germany." 

These  four  courses  of  lectures  have  been  pub- 
lished under  the  collective  title  "  The  Main  Lit- 
erary Currents  in  the  Nineteenth  Century " 
{Hovedstrdmningerne  i  det  Nittende  Aarhundredes 
Litteratur).  The  German  translation  is  entitled 
Hauptstrbmungen  in  der  Litteratur  des  Neun- 
zclinten  Jalirliu nderts.  Barring  the  strictures  which 
I  have  made,  I  know  no  work  of  contemporary  crit- 
icism which  is  more  luminous  in  its  statements, 
more  striking  in  its  Judgments,  and  more  replete 
with  interesting  information.  It  reminds  one  in 
its  style  of  Taine's  "  Lectures  on  Art "  and  the 
*'  History  of  English  Literature."  The  intellectual 
bias  is  kindred,  if  not  the  same  ;  as  is  also  the  pic- 
torial vigor  of  the  language,  the  subtle  deductions 
of  psychical  from  physical  facts,  and  a  certain 
lusty  realism,  which  lays  hold  of  external  nature 
with  a  firm  grip. 

In  Dr.  Brandes's  "  Impressions  of  Poland "  I 
found  an  observation  which  illustrates  his  extra- 
ordinary power  of  characterization.     The  temper- 


GEOKG   BR  ANDES  20/ 

ament  of  the  Polish  people,  he  says,  is  not  rational 
but  fantastically  heroic.  When  I  recall  the  per- 
sonalities of  the  various  Poles  I  have  known  (and  I 
have  known  a  great  many),  I  cannot  conceive  of  a 
phrase  more  exquisitely  descriptive.  It  makes  all 
your  haphazard  knowledge  about  Poland  signifi- 
cant and  valuable  by  supplying  you  with  a  key 
to  its  interpretation.  It  is  this  faculty  Dr.  '. 
Brandes  has  displayed  in  an  eminent  degree  in  his 
many  biographical  and  critical  essays  which  have 
appeared  in  German  and  Danish  periodicals  ;  as 
also  in  his  more  elaborate  biographies  of  Benjamin 
Disraeli  (1878),  Esaias  Tegner  (1878),  Soren  Kier- 
kegaard (1877),  Ferdinand  Lassalle  (1882),  and 
Ludwig  Holberg.  The  first  of  these  was  trans- 
lated into  English,  and  was  also  published  in  the 
United  States.  A  second  volume,  entitled  "  Em- 
inent Writers  of  the  Nineteenth  Century,"  was 
translated  some  years  ago  by  Professor  R.  B.  An- 
derson. The  greater  number  of  these  highly 
finished  essays  were  selected  from  the  Danish  vol- 
umes "The  Men  of  the  New  Transition"  (1884) 
and  ^'  Men  and  Works  in  Eecent  European  Litera- 
ture" (1883),  and  one  or  two  from  "Danish  Poets" 
(1877).  They  give  in  every  instance  the  keynote 
to  the  personality  with  which  they  deal  ;  they  are 
not  so  much  studies  of  books  as  studies  of  the  men 
who  are  revealed  in  the  books.  Take,  for  instance, 
the  essay  on  Bjornstjerne  Bjornson,  which  I  re- 
gard as  one  of  the  finest  and  most  vital  pieces  of 
critical   writing  in  recent   times.     What  can   be 


208  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

more  subtly  descriptive  of  the  very  innermost  soul 
of  this  poet  than  the  picture  of  him  as  the  clans- 
man, the  Norse  chieftain,  who  feels  with  the  many 
and  speaks  for  the  many  ;  and  what  more  beauti- 
fully indicative  of  his  external  position  than  this 
phrase  :  "  To  mention  his  name  is  like  running  up 
the  flag  of  Norway  "  ? 

It  seems  peculiarly  appropriate  to  follow  up  this 
essay  with  one  on  Ibsen,  who  is  as  complete  an 
antithesis  to  his  great  and  popular  rival  as  could 
well  be  conceived.  There  is  no  bugle-call  in  the 
name  Henrik  Ibsen.  It  is  thin  in  sound,  and  can 
be  spoken  almost  with  closed  lips.  You  have  no 
broad  vowels  and  large  consonants  to  fill  your 
mouth  as  when  you  say  Bjornstjerne  BJornson. 
This  difference  in  sound  seems  symbolic.  Ibsen  is 
the  solitary  man,  a  scathing  critic  of  society,  a  delv- 
er  in  the  depths  of  human  nature,  sceptical  of  all 
that  men  believe  in  and  admire.  He  has  not,  like 
Bjornson,  any  faith  in  majorities  ;  nay,  he  believes 
that  the  indorsement  of  the  majority  is  an  argu- 
ment against  the  wisdom  of  a  course  of  action  or 
the  truth  of  a  proposition.  The  summary  of  this 
poet's  work  and  personality  in  Dr.  Brandes's  book 
is  a  masterpiece  of  analytical  criticism.  It  en- 
riches and  expands  the  territory  of  one's  thought. 
It  is  no  less  witty,  no  less  epigrammatic,  than 
Sainte-Beuve  at  his  best ;  and  it  has  flashes  of 
deeper  insight  than  I  have  ever  found  in  Sainte- 
Beuve. 

The  last  book  of  Dr.  Brandes's  that  has  been  pre- 


GEOKG  BR  ANDES  209 

sented  to  the  American  public  is  his  "Impres- 
sions of  Russia/'  The  motto  of  this  work  (which 
in  the  Danish  edition  is  printed  on  the  back  of  the 
title-page)  is  "  Black  Earth,"  the  significance  of 
which  is  thus  explained  in  the  concluding  para- 
graph : 

"  Black  earth,  fertile  soil,  new  soil,  wheat  soil 
.  .  .  the  wide,  rich,  warm  nature  .  .  .  the 
infinite  expanses,  which  fill  the  soul  with  melan- 
choly and  with  hope  .  .  .  the  impenetrable, 
duskily  mysterious  .  .  .  the  mother-womb  of 
new  realities  and  new  mysticism  .  .  .  Russia, 
the  future." 

The  prophetic  vagueness  of  this  paragraph,  big 
with  dim  possibilities,  conveys  the  very  impression 
to  which  all  observations  and  experiences  in  Rus- 
sia finally  reduce  themselves.  It  is  the  enduring 
residue  which  remains  when  all  evanescent  im- 
pressions have  lapsed  into  the  background.  It  ex- 
presses, too,  the  typical  mental  attitude  of  every 
Russian,  be  he  ever  so  Frenchified  and  denation- 
alized. The  v/ord  "Virgin  Soil"  was  a  favorite 
phrase  with  Tourgueneff  when  speaking  of  his 
country,  and  he  used  it  as  the  title  of  his  last 
novel.  It  seemed  to  him  to  explain  everything  in 
Russian  conditions  that  to  the  rest  of  the  world  ap- 
peared enigmatical.  The  whole  of  Dr.  Brandes's 
book  is  interpenetrated  with  this  consciousness  of 
the  vast  possibilities  hidden  in  the  virgin  bosom  of 
the  new  earth,  even  though  they  may  be  too  deep- 
ly hidden  to  sprout  up  into  the  daylight  for  cen- 


2 1 0  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LIT  ERA  TURE 

turies  to  come.  The  Russian  literature,  which  is 
at  present  enchaining  the  attention  of  the  civilized 
world,  is  a  brilliant  variation  of  this  theme,  an 
imaginative  commentary  on  this  text.  The  second 
half  of  Dr.  Brandes's  "  Impressions  "  is  devoted  to 
the  consideration  of  Puschkin,  Gogol,  Lermontoff, 
Dostojevski,  Tourgueneff,  and  Tolstoi ;  of  each  of 
whom  he  gives,  as  it  appears  to  me,  a  better  ac- 
count than  M.  de  Vogiie  in  his  book  "  Le  Eoman 
Russe,"  which  gave  him  a  seat  among  the  Forty- 
Immortals. 

The  significance  of  Dr.  Brandes's  literary  activ- 
ity, which  has  now  extended  over  a  quarter  of  a 
century,  can  hardly  be  estimated  from  our  side  of 
the  Atlantic.  The  Danish  horizon  was,  twenty 
years  ago,  hedged  in  on  all  sides  by  a  patriotic  prej- 
udice which  allowed  few  foreign  ideas  to  enter. 
As  previously  stated,  the  people  had,  before  the 
two  Sleswick-Holstein  wars,  been  in  lively  com- 
munication with  Germany,  and  the  intellectual 
currents  of  the  Fatherland  had  found  their  way  up 
to  the  Belts,  and  had  pulsated  there,  though  with 
some  loss  of  vigor.  But  the  disastrous  defeat  in 
the  last  war  aroused  such  hostility  to  Germany 
that  the  intellectual  intercourse  almost  ceased. 
German  ideas  became  scarcely  less  obnoxious  than 
German  bayonets.  Spiritual  stagnation  was  the 
result.  For  no  nation  can  with  impunity  cut  it- 
self off  from  the  great  life  of  the  world.  New  con- 
nections might,  perhaps,  have  been  formed  with 
France  or  England  ;  but  the  obstacles  in  the  way 


GEORG  BRANDRS  211 

of  such  connections  appeared  too  great  to  be  read- 
ily overcome.  Racial  differences  and  consequent 
alienism  in  habits  of  thought  made  a  rapproche- 
ment seem  hopeless.  It  seemed,  for  awhile,  as  if 
the  war  had  cut  down  the  intellectual  territory  of 
the  Danes  even  more  than  it  had  curtailed  their 
material  area.  They  cultivated  their  little  domes- 
tic virtues,  talked  enthusiastic  nonsense  on  festive 
occasions,  indulged  in  vain  hopes  of  recovering 
their  lost  provinces,  but  rarely  allowed  their  polit- 
ical reverses  to  interfere  with  their  amusements. 
They  let  the  world  roar  on  past  their  gates,  with- 
out troubling  themselves  much  as  to  what  inter- 
ested or  agitated  it.  A  feeble,  moonshiny  late- 
romanticism  was  predominant  in  their  literature  ; 
and  in  art,  philosophy,  and  politics  that  sluggish 
conservatism  which  betokens  a  low  vitality,  inci- 
dent upon  intellectual  isolation. 

What  was  needed  at  such  a  time  was  a  man  who 
could  re-attach  the  broken  connection — a  mediator 
and  interpreter  of  foreign  thought  in  such  a  form 
as  to  appeal  to  the  Danish  temperament  and  be 
capable  of  assimilation  by  the  Danish  intellect. 
Such  a  man  was  Georg  Brandes.  He  undertook 
to  put  his  people  en  rapport  with  the  nineteenth 
century,  to  open  new  avenues  for  the  influx  of 
modern  tliought,  to  take  the  place  of  those  which 
had  been  closed.  We  have  seen  that  he  inter- 
preted to  his  countrymen  the  significance  of  the 
literary  and  social  movements  both  in  England  and 
in  France.     But  a  self-satisfied  and  virtuous  little 


212  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  L  ITER  A  TURE 

nation  which  regards  its  remoteness  from  the  great 
world  as  a  matter  of  congratulation  is  not  apt  to 
receive  with  favor  such  a  champion  of  alien  ideas. 
The  more  the  Danes  became  absorbed  in  their 
national  hallucinations,  tlie  more  provincial,  nay 
j)arochial,  they  became  in  their  interests,  the  less 
did  they  feel  the  need  of  any  intellectual  stimulus 
from  abroad ;  and  when  Dr.  Brandes  introduced 
them  to  modern  realism,  agnosticism,  and  positiv- 
ism they  thanked  God  that  none  of  these  dread- 
ful isms  were  indigenous  with  them  ;  and  were 
disj)0sed  to  take  Dr.  Brandes  to  task  for  disturb- 
ing their  idyllic,  orthodox  peace  by  the  promulga- 
tion of  such  dangerous  heresies.  When  the  time 
came  to  fill  the  professorship  for  which  he  was  a 
candidate,  he  was  passed  by,  and  a  safer  but  infe- 
rior man  was  appointed.  A  formal  crusade  was 
opened  against  him,  and  he  was  made  the  object  of 
savage  and  bitter  attacks.  I  am  not  positive,  but 
am  disposed  to  believe,  that  it  was  this  crusade,  not 
against  his  oj)inions  only,  but  against  the  man 
himself,  which  drove  Dr.  Brandes  from  Copenha- 
gen, and  induced  him,  in  October,  1877,  to  settle 
in  Berlin.  Here  he  continued  his  literary  activity 
with  unabated  zeal,  became  a  valued  contributor 
to  the  most  authoritative  German  ^periodicals,  and 
gained  a  conspicuous  position  among  German  men 
of  letters.  But  while  he  was  sojourning  abroad, 
the  seed  of  ideas  which  he  had  left  at  home  began 
to  sprout,  and  in  1882  his  friends  in  Copenhagen 
felt  themselves  strong  enough  to  brave  the  antag- 


GEORG  BR  ANDES  21 S 

onism  wliicli  his  aesthetical  and  religions  heresies 
had  aronsed.  At  their  invitation  he  returned  to 
Denmark,  liaving  been  guaranteed  an  income  of 
four  thousand  crowns  (11,000)  for  ten  years,  with 
the  single  stipulation  that  he  should  deliver  an 
annual  course  of  public  lectures  in  Copenhagen. 
Since  then  his  reputation  has  spread  rapidly 
throughout  the  civilized  world  ;  his  books  have 
been  translated  into  many  languages,  and  he  would 
have  won  his  way  to  a  recognition,  as  the  foremost 
of  contemporary  critics,  if  he  had  not  in  his  later 
publications  discredited  himself  by  his  open  sym- 
pathy with  anarchism. 

In  order  to  substantiate  this  it  is  only  necessary 
to  call  attention  to  the  fifth  volume  of  his  lectures 
entitled  "  Young  Germany  "  {Det  unge  Tydshland, 
1890),  which  betrays  extraordinary  intellectual  acu- 
men but  also  a  singular  confusion  of  moral  values. 
All  revolt  is  lauded,  all  conformity  derided.  The 
former  is  noble,  daring.  Titanic ;  the  latter  is 
pusillanimous  and  weak.  Conjugal  irregularities 
are  treated  not  with  tolerance  but  with  obvious 
approval.  Those  authors  who  dared  be  a  law  unto 
themselves  are,  by  implication  at  least,  praised  for 
flinging  down  their  gauntlets  to  the  dull,  moral 
Philistines  who  have  shackled  themselves  with 
their  own  stujDid  traditions.  That  is  the  tone  of 
Brandes's  comment  upon  such  relations  as  that  of 
Immermann  to  Eliza  von  Liitzow. 

But  nowhere  has  he  unmasked  so  Mephistophe- 
lian  a  countenance  as  in  his  essays  on  Luther  and 


2 1 4  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LIT  ERA  TURE 

on  an  obscnre  German  iconoclast  named  Friedricli 
Nietsclike  {Essays:  Fremmede  Personligheder, 
pp.  151-244).  It  is  difficult  to  understand  how  a 
man  of  well-balanced  brain  and  a  logical  equip- 
ment second  to  none,  can  take  au  serieux  a  mere 
pliilosopliical  savage  who  dances  a  war-dance  amid 
what  he  conceives  to  be  the  ruins  of  civilization, 
swings  a  reckless  tomahawk  and  knocks  down 
everybody  and  everything  that  comes  in  his  way. 
There  must  lie  a  long  history  of  disappointment 
and  bitterness  behind  that  endorsement  of  anarchy 
pure  and  simple.  And  it  is  the  sadder  to  contem- 
plate because  it  casts  a  sinister  light  upon  Dr. 
Brandes^s  earlier  activity  and  compels  many  an 
admirer  of  his  literary  art  to  revise  his  previous 
opinion  of  him.  Can  a  man  ever  have  been  a 
sound  thinker  who  at  fifty  practically  hoists  the 
standard  of  anarchy  ?  A  ship  is  scarcely  to  be 
trusted  that  flies  such  compromising  colors. 

That  all  development,  in  order  to  be  rational, 
must  have  its  roots  in  the  past — must  be  in  the  nat- 
ure of  a  slow  organic  growth — is  certainly  a  funda- 
mental proposition  of  the  Sj^encerian  sociology.  It 
is  the  more  to  be  wondered  at  that  an  evolutionist 
like  Dr.  Brandes,  in  his  impatience  at  the  tardi- 
ness of  social  progress,  should  lose  his  philosophic 
temper  and  make  common  cause  with  a  crack- 
brained  visionary.  The  kind  of  explosive  radi- 
calism which  Nietschke  betrays  in  his  cynical  ques- 
tions and  explanations  is  no  evidence  of  profundity 
or  sagacity,  but  is  the  equivalent  of  the  dynam- 


GEORG  BR  ANDES  21$ 

iter's  activity,  transferred  to  the  world  of  thought. 
His  pretended  re-investigation  of  the  foundations 
of  the  moral  sentiments  reminds  one  of  the  mud 
geysers  of  the  Yellowstone,  which  break  out  peri- 
odically and  envelop  everything  within  reach  in 
an  indeterminate  shower  of  mud.  To  me  there  is 
more  of  vanity  than  of  philosophic  acumen  in  his 
onslaught  on  well-nigh  all  human  institutions.  He 
would,  like  Ibsen,  no  doubt, 

"  Place  'neath  the  ark  the  torpedo  most  cheerfully ;  " 

but  torpedoes  of  his  making  would  scarcely  do  the 
ark  much  harm.  They  have  not  the  explosive 
power  of  Ibsen's.  There  are  in  every  age  men  who, 
unable  to  achieve  the  fame  of  Dinocrates,  who 
built  the  temple  of  the  Ephesian  Diana,  aspire  to 
that  of  Herostratos,  who  destroyed  it.  To  admire 
these  men  is  as  compromising  as  to  be  admired  by 
them. 

In  the  essay  on  "  Martin  Luther  on  Celibacy 
and  Marriage  "  Dr.  Brandes  derides  with  a  satyr- 
like leer  all  traditional  ideas  of  chastity,  conjugal 
fidelity,  and  marital  honor. 

Though  he  pretends  to  fight  behind  Luther's 
shield  the  deftest  thrusts  are  not  the  reformer's, 
but  the  essayist's  own.  Fundamentally,  I  fancy, 
this  is  an  outbreak  of  that  artistic  paganism  which 
is  so  prevalent  among  the  so-called  "  advanced  " 
Hebrews.  The  idea  that  obedience  to  law  is  de- 
grading ;  that  conformity  to  traditional  morals  is 
soul-crippling  and  unworthy  of  a  free  spirit ;  that 


2 1 6  SCANDINA  VI AN  LITER  A  TURE 

only  by  giving  sway  to  passion  will  the  individual 
attain  that  joy  which  is  his  right,  and  that  self- 
development  which  should  be  his  highest  aim,  has 
found  one  of  its  ablest  and  most  dangerous  advo- 
cates in  Georg  Brandes. 


ESAIAS  TEGNER 


ESAIAS  TEGNER 

THE  genius  of  the  Scandinavian  north  has 
never  found  a  more  complete  and  brilliant 
incarnation  than  the  Swedish  poet  Esaias  Tegner. 
Strong,  cheerful,  thoroughly  wholesome,  with  a 
boyish  delight  in  prowess,  adventure,  and  dar- 
ing deeds,  he  presents  a  most  agreeable  contrast 
to  the  moonshine  singers  and  graveyard  bards 
of  the  phosphoristic  school,  who  were  his  con- 
temporaries. To  Tegner,  in  his  prime,  life  was  a 
brisk  and  exhilarating  sail,  with  a  fresh  breeze, 
over  sunny  waters  ;  and  he  had  no  patience  with 
those  who  described  it  as  a  painful  and  troublous 
groping  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death.  There  was,  in  other  words,  a  certain 
charming  juvenility  in  his  attitude  toward  exist- 
ence, which  presented  to  him  no  riddles  that  a 
man  with  a  strong  arm  and  an  honest  heart  might 
not  solve  with  comparative  ease.  All  problems 
were  to  him  soluble  with  the  sword ;  and  Alex- 
ander, when  he  cut  the  Gordian  knot,  must  have 
appeared  to  him  wiser,  as  he  was  surely  more  ad- 
mirable, than  either  Plato  or  Socrates.  This  scorn 
of  all  metaphysical  subtleties,  and  reliance  upon 
strength  and  Swedish  manhood,  are,  perhaps  (from 


220  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

an  advanced  Enropean  point  of  view),  indicative 
of  a  little  intellectual  immaturity  ;  but  tliey  are 
thorouglily  characteristic  of  the  Scandinavian  na- 
tionalities. The  love  of  brave  words  and  brave 
deeds,  the  exaltation  of  the  man  of  action  above 
the  man  of  thought,  the  pleasure  in  reckless  gal- 
lantry and  foolhardy  adventure,  are,  however,  not 
confined  to  Swedes  and  Norwegians,  but  are  char- 
acteristic of  the  boyhood  of  every  nation.  In  the 
Scotchman,  Robert  Louis  Stevenson,  this  jaunty 
Juvenility,  this  rich  enjoyment  of  bloody  bucca- 
neers and  profane  sea-dogs,  is  carried  to  far  greater 
lengths,  and  the  great  juvenile  public  of  England 
and  America,  both  young  and  old,  rises  up  and 
calls  him  blessed. 

There  is,  however,  a  vast  difference  between 
Tegner's  youthf ulness  and  that  of  Stevenson.  The 
latter  (in  spite  of  the  charm  of  his  style,  which  is 
irresistible)  strikes  me  as  a  sort  of  mediaeval  sur- 
vival —  a  boyish  feudal  sixteenth-century  spirit 
astray  in  the  nineteenth.  I  am  by  no  means  in- 
sensible to  the  fascination  of  his  capricious  confi- 
dences, his  beautiful  insight,  and  his  exquisite  hu- 
mor ;  but  for  all  that,  he  always  leaves  me  with  a 
vague  regret  at  his  whimsicality  and  a  certain  lack 
of  robustness  in  his  intellectual  equipment.  In 
Tegner,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  primarily  the  man 
who  is  impressive  ;  and  the  author  is  interesting  as 
the  revelation  of  the  man.  He  has  no  literary 
airs  and  graces,  but  speaks  with  a  splendid  author- 
ity, e  ])l&no  pectore,  from  the  fulness  of  his  manly 


ESAIAS   TEGNER  221 

conviction.  He  seems  a  very  pei'sonification  of  the 
national  genius  —  fair,  vigorous,  and  beautiful  — 
with  the  glow  of  health  in  his  cheeks  and  the  light 
of  courage  in  his  eye.  His  vision  of  the  world  is 
bright  and  vivid,  and  he  swims  with  a  joyous  ease 
in  the  high-tide  of  the  moment,  like  a  beautiful 
fish  in  the  luminous  summer  sea. 

As  a  specimen  of  magnificent  manhood  Tegner 
had  few  equals  in  his  day.  Tall,  robust,  and  finely 
proportioned  as  he  was,  with  a  profile  of  almost 
classic  jourity,  he  was  equally  irresistible  to  men 
and  women.  There  was  a  breezy,  out-of-door  air 
about  him,  and  a  genial  straightforwardness  and 
affability  in  his  manner  which  took  all  hearts 
captive.  His  was  not  only  the  beauty  of  perfect 
health,  but  a  certain  splendid  virility  in  his  de- 
meanor and  appearance  heightened  the  charm  of 
his  personality. 

It  is  a  matter  of  wonder  that  a  man  in  whom  the 
race-type  had  reached  such  perfection  was  but  two 
generations  removed  from  the  soil.  Tegner's  grand- 
fathers on  both  sides  were  peasants  ;  and  his  father, 
Esaias  Lucasson,  was  a  peasant  lad  who  by  indus- 
try and  ambition  had  obtained  an  education  and 
become  a  clergyman.  He  owed  his  aristocratic 
name  to  the  custom,  prevalent  in  those  days,  to 
Latinize  all  vulgar  appellations.  Esaias  Lucas- 
son,  of  Tegnaby  (the  little  Smaland  village  where 
he  was  born),  became,  in  the  Latin  school,  Esaias 
Tegnerus.  He  married  in  the  course  of  time  a 
clergyman's  daughter,  Sara  Maria  Seidelius,  who 


222  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

bore  liim  a  large  family  of  sons  and  daughters. 
The  fifth  son,  named  Esaias  after  his  father,  first 
saw  the  light  of  day  in  the  parsonage  of  Kyrkerud, 
in  Wermland,  November  13,  1782.  When  he  was 
nine  years  old  his  father  died,  leaving  behind  him 
poverty  and  sorrow.  Happily  a  friend  of  the  fam- 
ily, the  Assessor  Branting,  took  a  fancy  to  the 
handsome  and  clever  boy  and  offered  him  a  home 
in  his  house.  Esaias  wrote  a  very  clear,  good 
hand,  and  soon  got  a  desk  and  a  high  three- 
legged  stool  in  the  assessor's  office.  So  far  from 
rebelling  against  this  tedious  discipline,  he  applied 
himself  with  zeal  to  his  task,  and  became,  in  a  short 
time,  an  excellent  clerk.  And  a  clerk  he  might 
have  remained  if  his  patron  had  not  had  the  wit  to 
discover  that  very  unusual  talents  slumbered  in  the 
lad.  Being  fond  of  his  society,  Mr.  Branting  got 
into  the  habit  of  taking  him  along  on  his  official 
journeys  ;  and  from  the  back  seat  of  his  chaise 
Esaias  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  beautiful 
rivers,  heights,  and  valleys  of  Wermhmd.  The 
unconscious  impressions  which  a  boy  absorbs  at 
this  period  of  his  life  are  apt  to  play  a  decisive 
part  in  fashioning  his  future.  Nature,  however 
picturesque,  never  yet  made  a  poet  of  a  dullard ; 
but  many  a  time  has  she  aroused  to  poetic  con- 
sciousness a  soul  which  without  this  stimulating 
influence  might  never  have  discovered  its  calling, 
might  never  have  felt  that  strange,  tremulous  ex- 
altation which  demands  ittterance  in  song. 

Esaias   Tegner   stored   his   mind   during  these 


ESAIAS   TEGiVER  223 

journeys  with  that  wealth  of  imagery,  drawn  from 
the  scenery  of  his  native  land,  which  constitutes 
the  most  national  element  in  his  verse.  He  also 
contracted,  during  his  residence  in  Branting's 
house,  an  inordinate  love  of  books.  Once  during 
the  harvest-time  he  was  placed  on  guard  at  an 
open  gate,  so  as  to  prevent  the  cattle  from  break- 
ing into  the  adjoining  field.  To  the  great  cha- 
grin of  his  patron,  however,  the  cows  made  their 
way  unhindered  and  unnoticed  into  the  forbidden 
territory,  while  their  watchman  was  lying  on  his 
belly  in  the  grass,  deeply  absorbed  in  a  book. 
Wherever  he  happened  to  be,  his  idea  of  happiness 
was  to  hide  himself  away  with  a  cherished  vol- 
ume. Sometimes  he  was  found  sitting  on  the  top 
rung  of  a  ladder,  sometimes  on  the  roof  of  a  turf- 
thatched  cottage,  oblivious  of  the  world  about 
him,  plunged  up  to  his  ears  in  some  historic  or 
mythological  tale.  He  was  voracious,  nay,  omniv- 
orous, in  his  reading.  A  book  was  a  book  to  him  ; 
no  matter  what  was  its  subject,  Avhether  it  were 
poetry,  history,  heraldry,  or  horticulture,  he  was 
always  likely  to  find  something  in  it  to  interest 
him.  But  his  favorite  reading  was  the  old  Norse 
sagas,  with  their  tremendous  recitals  of  war  and 
song  and  fabulous  prowess. 

It  was  not,  however,  his  delight  in  books  which 
made  the  change  in  his  destiny.  Professor  C.  W. 
Bottiger,  Tegner's  son-in-law,  quotes,  in  his  life  of 
the  poet,  the  following  incident  in  the  latter's  own 
words  : 


224  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  T  URE 

"  One  evening,  as  I  was  travelling  homeward 
with  Assessor  Branting,  from  Carlstad  to  Hogvalta, 
the  stars  were  bright  and  my  religious  foster-father 
seized  this  opportunity  to  talk  with  me  about 
God's  omnipotence,  and  its  visible  traces  through- 
out nature.  I  had  just  been  reading  Bastholm's 
'  Philosophy  for  Laymen/  and  I  began  to  give  an 
account  of  what  I  had  there  learned  concerning 
the  movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies.  This 
made  an  impression  upon  the  old  man,  who,  a 
few  days  later,  informed  me  that  he  had  deter- 
mined to  give  me  a  scholarly  education.  This  had 
long  been  my  secret  desire,  though  I  had  never 
dared  to  express  it.  '  You  can  learn  nothing 
more  with  me,'  he  said,  '  and  I  believe  you  were 
born  for  something  better.  If  that  is  the  case,'  he 
added,  '  do  not  forget  to  thank  the  Giver  of  all  good 
things.' " 

The  boy,  who  was  now  fourteen  years  old,  was 
sent  to  the  house  of  a  neighbor,  where  his  elder 
brother,  Lars  Gustaf,  was  tutor,  and  was  initiated 
by  him  into  the  classical  languages.  He  also  taught 
himself  English  by  reading  McPherson's  "  Ossian," 
which  kept  ringing  in  his  memory  for  many  years 
to  come.  It  was  during  his  first  enthusiasm  for 
''  Ossian"  that,  in  order  to  rid  himself  of  the  line 
''the  spear  of  Connell  is  keen,"  he  cut  it  into  his 
chamber-door,  where  probably  it  is  yet  to  be  seen. 
At  the  end  of  fifteen  months  the  elder  brother  ac- 
cepted a  more  profitable  position  as  tutor  in  the 
family  of  tlie  great  iron-manufacturer  Myhrman, 


ESAIAS   TEGNER  225 

at  Rilmen,  and  stipulated  that  Esaias  should  be 
permitted  to  accompany  him. 

Very  charming  is  the  description  of  this  hospi- 
table, patriarchal  household,  in  Bottiger's  biog- 
raphy ;  and  doubly  interesting  it  becomes  when 
we  recognize  on  every  page  scenes  and  incidents 
which  were  later  woven  into  ''  Frithjof  s  Saga/' 
There  was  a  large  library  on  the  estate,  consisting 
of  French,  Latin,  and  Greek  classics.  AVith  great 
zest  Esaias  attacked  this  storehouse  of  delight ; 
and  scarcely  would  he  grant  himself  the  needed 
sleep,  because  every  hour  seemed  to  him  lost 
which  had  been  robbed  from  his  beloved  authors. 
The  instruction  in  Latin  and  Greek  which  his 
brother  imparted  to  the  young  Myhrmans  was  to 
him  far  too  slow.  In  his  eagerness  to  plunge  into 
Homer's  enchanted  world,  he  rapidly  finished  his 
grammar,  and  began  to  read  ahead,  book  after 
book,  so  as  to  get  the  connection,  even  though  un- 
derstanding but  half  the  words.  Without  know- 
ing it,  he  had  adopted  a  modern  and  really  most 
excellent  method  of  acquiring  the  language.  For 
Homer  became  literature  to  him  instead  of  a  mere 
text  for  excruciating  grammatical  gymnastics. 

It  was  Tegner's  good  fortune  that  his  playfellows, 
the  seven  young  Myhrmans,  were  not  so  fond  of 
Greek  as  he  was.  Often,  when  he  was  revelling  in 
a  glorious  Homeric  passage,  these  lusty  barbarians 
would  come  storming  into  his  room  and  carry  him 
off  bodily,  compelling  him  to  share  in  their  sports  ; 
for  Esaias  was  a  capital  hand  at  inventing  new 
15 


2  26  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

games^  aud  tliey  willingly  accepted  his  leadership 
and  acted  upon  his  suggestions.  Particularly  his 
Homeric  games  were  greatly  enjoyed.  They  di- 
vided their  troop  into  Greeks  and  Trojans  and 
captured  Troy.  Esaias  was  always  Hector,  and 
the  other  boys  became  the  raging  AJax,  the  swift- 
footed  Achilles,  the  wily  Ulysses,  etc.  The  young- 
est daughter  of  the  house,  Anna  Myhrman,  must, 
I  should  fancy,  have  played  somewhat  more  of  a 
part  in  Tegner's  boyhood  than  his  biographer  al- 
lows, for  the  descriptions  of  Frithjof's  and  Inge- 
borg's  childhood  in  Hilding's  house  are  obviously 
personal  reminiscences  : 

"  No  bird's  nest  found  so  high  a  spot 
That  he  for  her  could  find  it  not ; 
The  eagle's  nest  from  clouds  he  sundered, 
And  eggs  and  young  he  deftly  plundered. 

•'  However  swift,  there  ran  no  brook, 
But  o'er  it  Ingeborg  he  took  ; 
How  sweet,  when  roaring  torrents  frighten, 
To  feel  her  soft  arms  round  him  tighten. 

*'  The  first  spring  flowers  by  sunshine  fed, 
The  earliest  strawberries  turning  red, 
The  first  of  autumn's  golden  treasure 
He  proffered  her  with  eager  pleasure."  * 

At  the  age  of  seventeen  Tegner  entered  the 
University  of  Lund,  accompanied  by  three  young 

*  Translation  of  Thomas  A.  E.  and  Martha  A.  L.  Holcomb, 
Chicago,  1877.  I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  substitute  "  strawber- 
ries," which  is  the  correct  translation  of  "Smultron,"  for  ber- 
ries. 


i 


ESAIAS   TEG  NEK  227 

Myhrmans,  whose  father  had  generously  promised 
to  share  with  Assessor  Branting  the  expenses  of 
his  academic  education.  .  His  playmate,  familiarly 
called  Achilles,  had  to  share  his  room,  and  thus 
it  came  to  pass  that  Hector  and  his  deadly  foe  be- 
came bedfellows.  In  fact  the  bed  in  question, 
being  intended  for  but  one,  afforded  the  scantiest 
possible  accommodations  for  two,  and  often  threat- 
ened to  collapse  under  their  united  weight.  Ach- 
ing in  every  joint  from  the  discomfort  of  their 
cramped  position,  they  would  then  get  up  and 
spend  the  remainder  of  the  night  in  playing 
chess. 

At  the  University  Tegner  soon  made  his  mark, 
and  two  years  later  took  his  degree  of  Magister 
Artium  with  great  distinction,  being,  according 
to  the  extraordinary  custom  of  the  country,  laurel- 
crowned  in  the  cathedral  as  the  first  of  twenty -four 
candidates.  The  Swede  loves  pomp  and  ceremo- 
nious display,  and  rarely  misses  an  opportunity  for 
a  fine  stage  effect.  I  do  not  mean  to  insinuate,  of 
course,  that  Esaias  Tegner  was  unworthy  of  the 
honor  which  was  conferred  upon  him ;  but  it 
seems  a  terrible  cheapening  of  the  laurel  to  place 
it  annually  upon  the  brows  of  a  herd  of  deedless 
striplings,  standing  ujjon  the  threshold  of  their 
careers.  Tegner  was  but  nineteen  years  of  age 
when  the  Muse,  contrary  to  her  habit,  gave  him 
the  crown  without  the  dust,  generously  rewarding 
him  in  advance  of  performance.  But  he  came 
very  near  forfeiting  the  fruits  of  all  his  fair  fame 


228  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

by  participating  in  a  hostile  demonstration  in  front 
of  the  house  of  the  University's  rector,  who  was 
justly  unpopular.  His  nianly  bearing,  however, 
and  the  friendship  of  several  of  the  professors  saved 
him  from  the  consilium  abeundi  cum  infamia, 
with  which  he  was  threatened.  Instead  of  that 
he  was  appointed  doccnt  in  assthetics.  Secretary  to 
the  Faculty  of  Philosophy,  and  Assistant  Univer- 
sity Librarian.  His  summer  vacations  he  spent  at 
Eiimen  with  the  Myhrmans.  His  playmate,  Miss 
Anna,  was  now  sixteen  years  of  age,  and  had  under- 
gone that  miraculous  transformation,  which  never 
loses  its  delightful  mystery,  from  childhood  into 
young  womanhood.  He  went  away  one  day  and 
bade  good-by  to  an  awkward  kangaroo-like  girl  in 
short  skirts,  and  returned  in  a  few  months  to  greet 
a  lovely,  blushingly  dignified  young  lady,  who 
probably  avowed  no  more  her  fondness  for  him 
with  the  same  frank  heedlessness  as  of  old.  But 
she  would  have  been  more  than  woman  if  she 
could  have  resisted  the  wooing  of  the  beautiful 
youth  upon  whom  nature  had  showered  so  many 
rare  gifts.  A  stone  has  been  found  up  in  the 
woods  above  Kilmen  which  yet  shows  under  its 
coating  of  moss  the  initials  of  E.  T.  and  A.  M.  It 
requires  but  little  imagination  to  fill  out  the  story 
of  the  brief  and  happy  courtship  ;  and  two  cantos 
in  "Frithjofs  Saga"  ("Frithofs  Wooing '^  and 
"  Frithjofs  Happiness  ")  supply  an  abundance  of 
hints  which  have  a  charmingly  autobiographical 
tino;e : 


ESATAS    TEGNER  229 

"  lie  sat  by  her  side  and  jiressed  her  soft  liand, 
And  he  felt  ,1  fond  pressure,  responsive  and  bland, 
Wliilst  his  love-dreaming  gaze 
Was  returned  as  the  sun's  in  the  moon's  placid  rajs. 

•'  Tliey  spoke  of  days  bygone,  so  gladsome  and  gay, 
"When  the  dew  was  yet  fresh  on  life's  new-trodden  wa.y ; 
For  on  memory's  page 
Youth  traces  its  roses  ;  its  briers  old  age. 

"  She  brought  him  a  greeting  from  dale  and  from  wood, 
From  the  bark-graven  runes  and  the  brook's  silver  Hood  ; 
From  the  dome-crowned  cave 
Where  oaks  bravely  stream  o'er  a  warrior's  grave."  * 

But  here,  happily,  Tegner's  life  ceased  to  supply 
material  for  that  of  his  hero.  For  Anna  Myhr- 
man,  instead  of  pledging  her  troth  to  a  high-born, 
elderly  gentleman,  like  King  Eing,  married  the 
young  University  instructor,  Esaias  Tegner ;  and 
when  her  bridal  wreath  of  myrtle  failed  to  arrive 
from  the  city,  she  twined  a  wreath  of  wild  heather 
instead  ;  and  very  lovely  slie  looked  on  her  wed- 
ding-day with  the  modest  heather  blossoms  jDcep- 
ing  forth  from  under  her  dark  locks. 

His  insecure  position  in  life,  as  one  dependent 
upon  the  bounty  of  friends,  had  hitherto  oppressed 
Tegner,  and  at  times  made  him  moody  and  de- 
spondent. He  had  felt  impelled,  in  justice  to  him- 
self and  to  satisfy  the  expectations  of  his  patrons, 
to  apply  himself  to  his  studies  with  a  persever- 
ance and  industry  which  came  near  undermining 
his  health.     He  looked  during  his  student  days 

*  Strong's  translation. 


2  30  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

overworked,  and  if  nature  had  endowed  him  with 
a  less  magnificent  physique  he  would,  no  doubt, 
have  succumbed  to  the  strain  of  this  perpetual 
over-exertion.  But  after  his  marriage  a  happy 
change  came  over  him.  The  joyous  substratum  of 
his  nature  (what  he  himself  called  his  pagan  self) 
broke  through  its  sombre  integuments  and  asserted 
itself.  No  sooner  had  he  taken  his  place  among 
the  teachers  of  the  University  than  his  clear  and 
weighty  personality  commanded  admiration  and 
respect.  In  social  intercourse  his  ready  wit  and 
cheerful  conviviality  made  him  a  general  favorite. 
His  talk,  without  being  in  the  least  forced,  was 
full  of  surprises ;  and  there  was  a  charm  in  the 
redundant  vigor  and  virility  that  seemed  to  radiate 
from  him.  But  it  may  as  well  be  admitted  that 
he  began  at  this  time  to  show  what  may  euphe- 
mistically be  styled  his  paganism,  in  tiie  relish 
which  he  evinced  for  jests  of  doubtful  propriety. 
He  was  indeed  as  far  as  possible  from  being  a 
prude  ;  many  years  later,  when  he  was  a  bishop 
and  a  great  ecclesiastical  dignitary,  he  wrote  to  his 
friend  the  poet  Franzen  : 

"I  tliank  God  that  I  can  yet,  at  times,  be  merry  and  give 
vent  to  my  mirth  in  prose  and  verse.  I  don't  scruple  to 
make  a  good  joke  even  though  its  subject  be  tlie  bridal  bed. 
All  prudery — and  frequently  the  clerical  dignity  is,  in  social 
intercourse,  nothing  else — I  detest  and  despise." 

His  inability  to  restrain  his  wit  in  this  particu- 
lar direction  has  done  some  injury  to  his  memory. 


ESAIAS   TEGNER  23  I 

Not  tliat  his  fancy  had  any  taint  of  uncleanness. 
It  was  open  and  cheerfnl  as  the  sunliglit ;  and  as 
the  sunlight  phiycd  brightly  over  all  things  witli- 
ont  fastidious  discrimination.  There  was  a  rich,, 
and  healthy  humanity  about  him  which  manifested 
itself  in  an  impartial,  all-embracing  delight  in  the 
glow  and  color  of  mere  sensuous  existence.  There 
has  scarcely  ever  been  a  great  poet  (Dante  perhaps 
excepted)  who  has  not  had  his  share  of  this  pagan 
joy  in  nudity.  Goethe's  '^Eoman  Elegies"  are  un- 
disguisedly  Anacreontic,  and  the  most  spiritual  of 
modern  poets,  Eobert  Browning,  is  as  deep  and 
varied  and  bountiful  in  the  expression  he  gives  to 
life  in  its  sensuous  phases  as  in  its  highest  ascetic 
transjiorts. 

Do  not  imagine,  then,  that  I  am  apologizing  for 
Tegner,  I  am  merely  tr3dng  to  account  for  him. 
From  his  Homer,  whom  he  loved  above  all  other 
poets,  he  had  in  a  measure  derived  that  artistic  pa- 
ganism which  perceptibly  colored  his  personality. 
There  was  nothing  of  the  scholarly  prig  or  pedant 
about  him.  In  his  lectures  he  gave  himself,  his 
OAvn  view  of  life,  and  his  own  interpretation  of  his 
authors.  And  it  was  because  of  the  greatness  of 
the  man,  the  unhackneyed  vigor  of  his  speech,  and 
the  power  of  his  intellect  that  the  students  flocked 
to  his  lecture-hall  and  listened  with  enthusiasm  to 
his  teaching. 

I  am  not  by  any  means  sure,  however,  that 
much  of  his  popularity  was  also  due  to  what,  at 
this  stage  of  his  career,  may  without  disresjsect  be 


232  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

called  his  immaturity.  That  wholesome  robust- 
ness in  his  acceptance  of  life  which  finds  utterance 
in  his  early  songs  must  have  established  a  quick 
bond  of  sympathy  between  him  and  his  youthful 
hearers.  The  instincts  of  the  predatory  man  were 
yet  strong  in  him.  The  tribal  feeling  which  we  call 
patriotism,  the  juvenile  defiance  which  carries  a 
chip  on  its  shoulder  as  a  challenge  to  the  world, 
the  boastful  self-assertion  which  is  always  ridicu- 
lous in  every  nation  but  our  own — impart  a  splen- 
did martial  resonance  to  his  first  notable  poem, 
*MVar-Song  for  the  Scanian  Keserves "  (1808). 
There  was  a  charming,  frank  ferocity  in  this  j)a- 
triotic  bugle-blast  which  found  an  echo  in  every 
Swedish  heart.  The  rapid  dactylic  metres,  with 
the  captivating  rhymes,  alternating  with  the  more 
contemplative  trochees,  were  admirably  adapted 
for  conveying  the  ebullient  indignation  and  wrath 
which  hurls  its  gauntlet  into  the  face  of  fate  itself,* 
checked,  as  it  were,  and  cooled  by  soberer  reflec- 
tion and  retrospective  regret.  It  is  the  sorrow  for 
the  yet  recent  loss  of  Finland  which  inspires  the 
elegiac  tones  in  Tegner's  war-song ;  and  it  is  his 
own  ardent,  youthful  spirit,  his  own  deep  and  sin- 
cere love  of  country,  which  awakes  the  martial 
melody  with  the  throbbing  of  the  drum  and  the 
rousing  alarum  of  trumpets.  What  can  be  more 
delightfully — shall  I  say  juvenile — than  this  refer- 

*  "  Vi  Kaste  var  handske 

Mot  odet  sjelf." 


ESAIAS   TEGNER  233 

ence  to  the  numerical  superiority  of  the  Musco- 
vites : 

"Many,  are  they  ?    Well,  then,  of  the  many 

Sweden  shall  drink  the  red  blood  and  be  free  ! 
Many  ?     We  count  not  the  warriors'  numbers 
Only  the  fallen  shall  numbered  be." 

It  is  with  no  desire  to  disparage  Tegner  that  I 
say  tliat  this  strain,  which  is  that  of  all  his  early 
war-songs,  is  extremely  becoming  to  him.  It  is 
not  a  question  of  the  legitimacy  of  the  sentiment, 
but  of  the  fulness  and  felicity  of  its  expression. 
As  long  as  we  have  wars  we  must  have  martial 
bards,  and  with  the  exception  of  the  German,  Theo- 
dor  Korner,  I  know  none  who  can  bear  comparison 
with  Tegner.  English  literature  can  certainly 
boast  no  Avar-poem  which  would  not  be  drowned 
in  the  mighty  music  of  Tegner's  "  Svea,"  "  The 
Scanian  Reserves,"  and  that  magnificent,  dithy- 
rambic  declamation,  "King  Charles,  the  Young 
Hero."  Tennyson's  '^'Charge  of  the  Light  Bri- 
gade" is  technically  a  finer  poem  than  anything 
Tegner  has  written,  but  it  lacks  the  deep  virile  bass, 
the  tremendous  volume  of  breath  and  voice,  and 
the  captivating  martial  lilt  which  makes  the  heart 
beat  willy  nilly  to  the  rhythm  of  the  verse. 

The  popularity  which  Tegner  gained  by  ''  The 
Scanian  Reserves"  was  the  immediate  cause  of  his 
appointment  to  a  professorship  at  the  University 
of  Lund,  and  his  next  notable  poem,  "Svea," 
which  won  him  the  great  prize   of  the   Swedish 


2  34  ■SCA  NDIN-A  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURK 

Academy,  raised  liim  to  a  heiglit  of  fame  which 
naturally  led  to  further  promotion.  According  to 
the  curious  custom  of  Sweden,  a  professor  may, 
even  though  he  has  never  studied  theology,  take 
orders  and  accept  the  charge  of  a  parish.  He  is 
regarded  as  being,  by  dint  of  his  learning,  in  the 
regular  line  of  clerical  promotion ;  and  the  eleva- 
tion from  a  professorship  (though  it  be  not  a  theo- 
logical one)  into  a  bishopric  is  no  infrequent  oc- 
currence. There  was  therefore  nothing  anomalous 
in  Tegner's  appointment  (February,  1812)  as  pas- 
tor of  Stafvie  and  Lackaliinge,  and  his  subsequent 
promotion  (February,  1824)  to  the  bishopric  of 
Wexio.  His  pastorate  he  was  permitted  to  com- 
bine with  his  professorship  of  Greek,  to  which 
he  was  simultaneously  transferred  from  that  of 
aesthetics,  and  the  office  was  chiefly  valuable  to 
him  on  account  of  the  addition  which  it  procured 
him  to  his  income.  The  nearness  of  his  parish  to 
Lund  enabled  him  to  preach  in  the  country  on 
Sundays  as  regularly  as  he  lectured  in  the  city  on 
week-days.  His  other  pastoral  duties  he  could 
not  very  well  discharge  in  absentia,  and  they  prob- 
ably remained  in  a  measure  undischarged.  He 
had  not  sought  the  parish  ;  it  was  the  parish  which 
had  sought  him  ;  and  he  exerted  himself  to  the 
utmost  to  fill  the  less  congenial  office  as  conscien- 
tiously as  he  did  his  academic  chair.  The  peasants 
of  Stafvie  and  Lackaliinge  were  always  welcome  at 
his  hospitable  board  ;  he  gave  them  freely  his  ad- 
vice, and  in  order  to  recall  and  emphasize  his  own 


ESATAS   TEGMER  235 

kinship  with  them,  he  invited  a  peasant  woman  to 
become  the  godmother  of  his  youngest  son,  and 
selected  all  the  sponsors  from  the  same  class. 

This  was  not  the  only  occasion  on  which  Tegner 
demonstrated  his  superiority  to  all  snobbish  pre- 
tensions. He  was  not  only  not  ashamed  of  his 
peasant  descent,  but  he  was  proud  of  it.  Once 
(1811)  during  a  visit  to  Riimen,  he  took  it  into  his 
head  that  he  desired  to  know,  from  actual  experi- 
ence, the  kind  of  lives  which  his  ancestors  must 
have  lived  ;  and  to  that  end  he  dressed  himself  in 
wadmal,  loaded  a  dray  with  pig-iron,  greased  its 
axles,  harnessed  his  team,  and  drove  it  to  the  near- 
est city,  a  distance  of  ten  to  twelve  miles.  He 
induced  three  of  his  brothers-in-law,  two  of  whom 
were  army  officers  and  one  a  government  clerk,  to 
follow  his  example.  Up  hill  and  down  hill  they 
trudged,  and  arrived  late  in  the  afternoon,  foot- 
sore and  with  blistered  hands,  in  the  town,  where 
they  reported  at  the  office  of  a  commission  mer- 
chant, sold  their  iron  and  obtained  their  receipts. 
That  of  Tegner  was  made  out  to  Esaias  Esaiasson, 
which  would  have  been  his  name,  if  his  father  had 
never  risen  from  the  soil.  The  four  sham  peas- 
ants now  bought  seed-corn  with  the  money  they 
had  obtained  for  their  iron,  loaded  again  their 
wagons,  and  started  for  home.  But  they  had  for- 
gotten to  take  into  account  the  robustness  of  the 
rustic  appetite,  and  before  they  had  proceeded  far 
their  bag  of  provisions  was  empty.  To  add  to 
their  discomfort  the  rain  began  to  pour  down,  but 


236  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

they  wonlcl  not  seek  shelter.  After  midnight  they 
arrived  at  Riimen,  hungry  and  drenched,  not  hav- 
ing slept  for  two  nights,  but  happy  and  proud  of 
their  feat  of  endurance. 

It  was  in  1811  that  Tegner's  poem  "  Svea  "  re- 
ceived the  prize  of  the  Swedish  Academy ;  and 
the  fact  that  it  recalled  (in  single  passages  at  least) 
Oehlenschlager's  "^  The  Golden  Horns, ^'  does  not 
seem  to  have  weighed  in  the  verdict.  It  is  not  in 
any  sense  an  imitation  ;  but  there  is  an  audible 
reminiscence  which  is  unmistakable  in  the  metre 
and  cadence  of  the  short-lined  verses,  descriptive 
of  the  vision.  Never,  I  fancy,  had  the  Swedish 
language  been  made  to  soar  with  so  strong  a  wing- 
beat,  never  before  had  it  been  made  to  sing  so  bold 
a  melody.  To  me,  I  admit,  "  Svea"  is  too  rhe- 
torical to  make  any  deep  impression.  It  has  a  cer- 
tain stately  academic  form,  which,  as  it  were,  im- 
pedes its  respiration  and  freedom  of  movement. 
When,  for  all  that,  I  speak  of  wing-beat  and  mel- 
ody, it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  Sweden  had 
produced  no  really  great  poet  *  before  Tegner  ; 
and  that  thus,  relatively  considered,  the  statement 
is  true.     But  Tegner  seems  himself  to  have  been 

*Carl  Michael  BeUman,  the  Swedish  Beranger  (1740-1795), 
whose  wanton  music  resounded  through  the  latter  half  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  would,  no  doubt,  by  many  be  called  a  great 
poet.  But  his  Bacchanalian  strain,  though  at  times  exquisite  and 
captivating,  lacks  the  universality  of  sentiment  and  that  depth  of 
resonance  of  which  greatness  can  alone  be  predicated.  Both  his 
wild  mirth  and  his  sombre  melancholy  exhale  the  aroma  of  ardent 
spirits. 


ESATAS  TEGNER  237 

conscious  of  the  strait-jacket  in  Avliicli  the  okl 
academic  rules  confined  him,  for  in  the  middle  of 
the  poem  he  suddenly  discards  the  stilted  Alexan- 
drines with  which  he  had  commenced  and  breaks 
into  a  rapturous  old-Norse  chant,  the  abrupt  metres 
of  which  recall  iliQ/ornyrdludag  of  the  Elder  Edda. 
Soon  after  '^Svea"  "followed,  in  1812,  "The 
Priestly  Consecration,"  the  occasion  of  which  was 
the  poet's  own  ordination.  Here  the  oratorical 
note  and  a  certain  clerical  rotundity  of  utterance 
come  very  near  spoiling  the  melody.  "  At  the 
Jubilee  in  Lund  "  (1817)  is  very  much  in  the  same 
strain,  and  begins  with  the  statement  so  character- 
istic of  Tegner  : 

"Thou  who  didst  the  brave  twin  stars  enkindle, 

Reason  and  Religion,  guard  the  twain  ! 

Each  shines  by  other  ;  else  they  fade  and  dwindle.* 

Fill  with  clearness  every  human  brain  : 

Faith  and  hope  in  every  bosom  reign  !  " 

He  was,  in  fact,  never  very  orthodox  ;  and  if  he 
had  belonged  to  the  American  branch  of  his  de- 
nomination would  surely  have  been  tried  for  her- 
esy. Rarely  has  a  deadlier  foe  of  priestly  obscu- 
rantism and  mediaeval  mysteries  worn  the  episcopal 
robes.  With  doctrinal  subtleties  and  ingenious 
hair-splitting  he  had  no  patience ;  conduct  was 
with  him  the  main,  if  not  the  only,  thing  to  be 
considered.      The   Christian   Church,  as  he  con- 

*  This  line  reads  literally  :  "  Guard  them  both ;  they  are  will- 
ingly reconciled." 


238     SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

ceived  it^  was  primarily  a  civilizer,  and  the  expres- 
sion of  the  highest  ethical  sentiment  of  the  age. 

''  The  Church/'  he  writes,  ''  can  surely  not  be 
re-established  in  its  former  religious  significance, 
for  the  system  upon  which  it  rests  has  slept  away 
three  centuries  of  history  ;  and  it  is  of  no  use  that 
this  man  or  that  man  yet  pretends  to  believe  in 
the  somnambulist.  But  the  church  has  also  a 
civic  significance  as  an  integral  part  of  the  social 
order  of  humanity.  If  you  abandon  that  to  the 
spirit  of  laxity  and  drowsiness,  I  can  see  no  reason 
why  the  clergy  and  the  whole  religious  apparatus 
should  not  be,  and  ought  not  to  be,  abolished  and 
their  costs  covered  into  the  treasury." 

These  are  not  highly  episcopal  sentiments ;  but 
they  are  in  keeping  with  Tegner's  whole  person- 
ality and  his  conception  of  his  duty.  His  first 
concern  Avas  to  purge  his  diocese  of  drunken  cler- 
gymen, a  task  in  which  he  encountered  many  un- 
foreseen difficulties. 

"'It  is  nowadays  less  difficult,"  he  says,  ''to  get 
rid  of  a  king  than  a  drunken  clergyman." 

He  was,  indeed,  very  moderate  in  his  demands, 
stipulating  only  that  no  shepherd  of  souls  should 
show  himself  drunk  in  public.  But  the  bibulous 
parsons  frequently  had  influential  relatives,  who 
exerted  themselves  with  the  government  to  thwart 
the  bishop's  reformatory  schemes.  If  Tegner  had 
not  been  the  masterful,  tireless,  energetic  prelate 
that  ho  was,  his  ardor  would  have  cooled  ;  and 
he  would  have  contented  himself  with  drawing 


ESAIAS   TEGNER  239 

the  revenues  of  his  office,  and  left  with  the  hike- 
warm  government  the  resiDonsibility  for  frustrat- 
ing his  purposes.  But  this  was  contrary  to  his 
nature.  He  could  not  calmly  contemplate  abuses 
which  it  was  his  duty  to  remedy  ;  and  no  discour- 
agement ever  sufficed  to  dampen  his  noble  zeal. 
The  marked  and  fanatical  pietism  which  then  was 
much  diffused  among  the  Smftland  peasantry  he 
fought  with  his  cheerful  gospel  of  reason  and  san- 
ity. Just  as  poetry  to  him  meant  the  highest 
bloom  of  life,  and  his  radiant  lyre  resounded  with 
noble  music  like  the  statue  of  Memnon,  when 
touched  by  the  rays  of  the  dawn  ;  so  religion  was, 
in  its  essence,  perfect  sanity  of  soul,  a  beautiful 
equilibrium  of  mind,  and  comi^lete  self-mastery. 
His  Christ  was  not  primarily  the  bleeding,  the 
scourged,  the  crucified,  but  rather  a  benigner  and 
lovelier  Phoebus  Apollo,  the  bringer  of  clearness 
and  light,  the  dispeller  of  the  unwholesome  mists 
and  barbaric  gloom  that  yet  brood  over  the  human 
soul.  Like  Goethe,  he  cherished  a  veritable  ab- 
horrence of  the  mystic  symbolism  of  the  mediseval 
church ;  and  was  rather  inclined  to  minimize  the 
significance  of  Christ's  death  and  passion.  He  had 
undeniably  imparted  into  his  Christianity  a  great 
deal  of  sunny  Hellenic  paganism  —  a  fact  which 
in  his  familiar  correspondence  with  Franzen  he 
scarcely  cares  to  disguise. 

Having  this  conception  of  the  episcopal  office, 
he  could  not  escape  emphasizing  his  function  as 
the  supervisor  of  the  schools  of  his  diocese.     If  he 


240  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LIT  ERA  TURE 

was  to  be  a  civilizer  on  any  great  scale,  tlie  chance 
which  was  here  afforded  him  to  impress  his  ideals 
upon  the  rising  generation  was  not  one  to  be  neg- 
lected. And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  Tegner  was  in- 
defatigable in  his  labors  as  an  educator.  His 
many  speeches  at  school  celebrations  preached,  as 
ever,  a  gospel  derived  from  Greece  rather  than 
Judgea ;  and  half-improvised  though  some  of  them 
appear  to  be,  they  contain  passages  of  lofty  elo- 
quence. 

It  was  inevitable  that  a  bishop  of  such  com- 
manding personality,  who  wielded  his  authority  at 
times  somewhat  ruthlessly,  should  make  enemies. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  tlie  beautiful  beneficence 
and  sincere  humanity  of  the  man  often  oblit- 
erated the  ill-feeling  which  his  official  severity 
had  aroused.  To  the  widows  of  deceased  clergy- 
men in  his  diocese  he  was  a  veritable  guardian,  to 
their  children  a  father,  to  his  peasantry  a  friend, 
adviser,  and  monitor.  He  was  an  expert  at  de- 
tecting errors  in  ecclesiastical  balance-sheets ;  and 
woe  to  the  cleric  who  dared  present  to  him  inac- 
curate accounts  of  income  and  expenditures.  By 
sheer  dint  of  his  personal  superiority  and  that 
quality  of  soul  which  George  Eliot  calls  dynamic, 
he  impressed  himself  strongly  upon  all  with  whom 
he  came  in  contact ;  and  though  he  was  feared,  he 
was  also  beloved  as  few.  A  very  delightful  in- 
stance of  the  reverence  with  which  he  was  re- 
garded is  recorded  by  Bottiger. 

One   summer  evening  he  arrived  at  a  remote 


ESAIAS   TEGNER  24 1 

parsonage  which  liad  never,  in  the  memory  of 
man,  been  visited  by  a  bishop.  Some  time  after 
his  arrival  Tegner  observed  two  young  ladies,  the 
daughters  of  the  house,  coming  across  tlie  yard 
carrying  between  them  a  big  tub,  full  of  water. 
When  he  asked  them,  in  a  friendly  way,  why  they 
subjected  themselves  to  such  hard  labor,  one  of 
them  replied  :  "  Should  we  not  regard  it  as  an 
honor  to  be  allowed  to  water  the  bishop's  horses  ?  " 

In  order  to  give  a  clear  and  coherent  idea  of 
Tegner  in  his  prime,  I  have  been  obliged  to 
anticipate  events.  Many  literary  achievements 
which  I  have  left  unrecorded  belong  to  the  period 
previous  to  his  assumption  of  the  bishopric  of 
AVexio.  Unhappily  Professor  Bottiger's  edition  is 
very  chary  of  dates,  and  as  Dr.  Brandes  has  truly 
observed,  is  arranged  with  the  obvious  purpose  of 
falsifying  the  sequence  of  Tegner's  poems  and  con- 
fusing the  reader.  The  three  periods — previous  to 
1812, 1813-40,  and  1840-46— are  entirely  arbitrary, 
and  plainly  devised  with  a  view  to  concealing,  in  so 
far  as  they  are  capable  of  concealment,  the  un- 
happy events  which  undermined  the  strength  of 
the  Titan  and  wrecked  his  splendid  powers.  But 
such  a  purpose  is  utterly  futile,  as  long  as  the 
poems  themselves  had  once  escaped  into  publicity. 

It  was  during  the  period  while  his  sky  was  yet 
unclouded  that  Tegner  enriched  Swedish  literature 
with  a  series  of  lyrics  Avhich  in  jDoint  of  lucidity  of 
thought  and  brilliancy  of  diction  have  rarely  been 
surpassed.  It  may  be  admitted,  without  materially 
16 


242  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

detracting  from  his  merit,  that  in  some  of  them 
the  foreign  models  from  which  they  were  in  a 
measure  fashioned  shimmer  through.  Just  as  the 
Germans,  Gottsched  and  Bodmer,  held  foreign 
models  to  be  indispensable,  and  only  disagreed  as 
to  which  were  the  best,  so  the  Swedish  Academy, 
which  in  its  predilections  was  French,  had  no 
scruple  in  recommending  this  or  that  literary  form 
for  imitation.  That  degree  of  literary  indepen- 
dence which  Germany  reached  with  Goethe  and 
Schiller,  who  discarded  all  models,  the  Scandina- 
vian countries  did  not  reach  until  a  much  later 
period ;  and  Tegner  was  one  of  those  who  stimu- 
lated that  national  self-respect  without  which 
independence  is  impossible. 

A  strong  spiritual  kinship  drew  him  to  Schiller, 
whose  splendor  of  imagery  and  impassioned  rhet- 
oric were  the  very  gifts  which  he  himself  in  a  su- 
perlative degree  possessed.  The  breath  of  politi- 
cal and  religious  liberalism  which  pervades  the 
writings  of  the  German  poet  was  also  highly  con- 
genial to  Tegner,  and  last,  but  not  least,  they  were 
both  light-loving,  beauty-worshipping  Hellenists, 
and,  though  externally  conformists,  hid  joyous  pa- 
gan souls  under  imperfect  Christian  draperies. 
Small  blame  it  is  therefore  to  Tegner  that  Schil- 
ler's poems  furnished  him  with  frequent  sugges- 
tions and  sometimes  also  with  metres.  Schiller 
had,  in  "  The  Gods  of  Greece,"  sung  a  glorious 
elegy  on  the  Olympian  age  which  stimulated  his 
Swedish  rival  to  write  "  The  Asa  Age,"  in  which 


ESAIAS   TEGNER  243 

he  regretted,  tliongli  in  a  rather  half-hearted  way, 
the  disappearance  of  Odin,  Thor,  and  Freya. 
The  poem,  it  must  be  admitted,  falls  much  below 
Tegner  at  his  best.  Schiller's  "  Three  Words  of 
Faith,"  in  which  liberty,  virtue,  and  God  are  de- 
clared to  be  the  only  essentials  of  religion,  finds  a 
parallel  (which  even  retains  the  metre)  in  Tegner's 
''  The  Eternal,''  in  which  truth,  justice,  and  beau- 
ty are  substituted.  A  kindred  poetic  creed  is  far 
more  consciously  proclaimed  in  the  famous  poem 
Smigen  (Poetry),  which  was  primarily  a  jDrotest 
against  the  gloomy  and  morbid  view  of  poetry 
entertained  by  the  Swedish  Eomanticists  (the  so- 
called  Phosphorists).  Tegner  here  declares  that 
the  poet  "  with  heavenly  joy  embraces  life,"  that 
''he  knows  no  weak  lament"  (at  its  misery),  ''no 
dissonance  which  is  not  dissolved"  (in  harmony). 
His  temple  stands  in  light  and  flame ;  and  at  its 
base  a  fountain  gurgles,  a  draught  from  which  is 
an  elixir  of  strength  and  a  panacea  for  all  ills. 

"  Well,  then,"  he  continues,  "  from  this  foun- 
tain will  I  drink,  if  I  am  worthy  of  such  a  draught. 
With  healthy  eyes  will  I  look  about  me  in  the  sick 
world.  My  golden  lyre  shall  not  resound  with 
sorrows  which  I  myself  have  invented.  For  the 
poet's  sorrows  are  none  ;  and  the  sky  of  song  is 
forever  bright." 

Peter  Amadeus  Atterbom,  the  leader  of  the 
Phosphorists,  replied  with  much  moderation  and 
good  sense  to  the  obvious  reflections  upon  his 
school  which  this  poem  contained.     He  intimates 


244  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

plainly  enongli  tliat  Tegner's  philosophy  of  life,  in 
so  far  as  it  ignores  sin  and  sorrow,  which  are  too 
real  to  be  banished  by  song,  is  a  hopelessly  shallow 
one. 

'^  The  undissolved  dissonances,"  he  says,  "  in 
the  sense  in  which  Mr.  Tegner  uses  the  expres- 
sion, certainly  betray  a  disease  of  the  soul,  but 
this  disease  is  not  peculiar  to  a  temperament  which 
is  fostered  by  a  personal  emotional  affinity  for  lu- 
gubrious topics  and  ideas  given  by  birth  and  de- 
veloped by  circumstances ;  but  it  is  inherent  in 
the  weakness  (which  at  times  doubtless  surprises 
even  the  strongest  .  .  .  )  of  desiring  to  set 
up  its  sorrowful  view  of  the  world  as  a  theory,  and 
treat  it  as  absolutely  true  and  fundamentally  valid 
for  all.  Sorrow,  as  such,  is  no  more  a  diseased 
state  than  is  joy  ;  both  are  alike  primordial,  neces- 
sary, indispensable  elements  and  halves  of  human 
life.  Who  would  venture  to  assert  that  the  day 
might  dispense  with  the  night  ?  And  does  not 
the  latter's  glorious  starry  sky  rival  in  majesty 
(though  different  in  kind)  the  former's  bright  and 
dazzling  blitheness  ?  " 

The  fact  was  that  Tegner's  cheery  sun  -  wor- 
ship was  as  much  temperamental  as  was  Atter- 
bom's  sentimental  reveries  and  nocturnal  melan- 
choly. The  Phosphorist  is  unquestionably  right, 
however,  in  asserting  that  as  a  theory  of  life  the 
one  is  as  limited  and  imperfect  as  the  other.  It 
was  because  of  the  abhorrence  of  all  the  darker 
phases  of  existence  that  Tegner's  bright  Helle- 


ESAIAS   TEGNER  245 

nic  muse  never  struck  those  notes  which  thrill 
with  deepest  resonance  through  the  human  heart. 
Tegner's  acquaintance  witii  suffering  during  the 
early  part  of  his  career  was  chiefly  a  literary  one, 
and  like  Goethe  he  went  far  out  of  his  way  to 
avoid  the  sight  of  it.  As  there  can  he  no  victory 
without  combat  —  no  laurel  without  dust  —  the 
Mount  of  Transfiguration  is  not  reached  except 
through  the  valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death. 

There  are,  however,  many  fair  flowers  to  be 
plucked  in  Tempe  and  the  blooming  vales  of  Ar- 
cady.  Goethe  had  in  1798  published  "  Hermann 
and  Dorothea,^'  the  form  of  which  was  Greek, 
though  the  theme  was  Teutonic ;  and  Tegner's 
''  Children  of  the  Lord's  Supper "  (1820),  which 
Longfellow  has  translated  so  admirably  into  Eng- 
lish, derived  its  inspiration  j^rimarily  from  the 
German  idyl  : 

"Pentecost,  day  of  rejoicing,  had  come,  the  church  of  the 
village 

Stood,  gleaming  white  in  the  morning  sheen.  On  the  spire 
of  the  belfry, 

Decked  with  a  brazen  cock,  the  friendly  flames  of  the 
spring  sun 

Glanced  like  the  tongues  of  fire  beheld  by  Apostles  afore- 
time." 

Thus  run  the  beautiful,  stately  hexameters,  which, 
whatever  cavilling  critics  may  say,  are  delightfully 
adapted  for  epic  narrative  in  any  fairly  polysyl- 
labic language.  And  Swedish,  which  is  the  most 
sonorous    of  all   Germanic   tongues,  and  full   of 


246  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

Gothic  strength,  produces  the  most  delectable  ef- 
fects in  the  long,  rolling  line  of  slow  -  marching 
dactyls  and  spondees.  The  tempered  realism  of 
Tegner,  which  shuns  all  that  is  harsh  and  trite,  ac- 
cords well  with  the  noble  classical  verse.  He  em- 
ploys it,  as  it  were,  to  dignify  his  homely  tale,  as 
Eaphael  draped  the  fishermen  of  Galilee  in  the 
flowing  robes  of  Greek  philosophers.  The  de- 
scription of  the  church,  the  rustic  youth,  and  the 
patriarchal  clergyman  has,  however,  the  note  of 
experience  and  the  touch  of  earth  which  we  miss 
in  the  more  declamatory  passages.  If,  however, 
declamation  is  anywhere  in  place  it  is  in  the  three 
orations  of  the  rural  parson,  which  occupy  the 
larger  portion  of  the  poem.  It  is  all  very  lovely 
and  edifying  ;  full  of  sacred  eloquence  and  a  grand 
amplitude  of  phrase  which  is  distinctly  clerical. 

The  romantic  tale  of  ''Axel"  (1822),  modelled 
after  Byron's  narrative  poems,  rejoiced  in  a  greater 
popularity,  in  spite  of  the  carping  criticism  with 
which  it  was  received  by  the  Svensh  Litteratur- 
Tidning,  the  organ  of  the  Phosphorists.  Though, 
to  be  sure,  the  merits  of  the  poem  are  largely  ig- 
nored in  this  review,  it  is  undeniable  that  the 
faults  which  are  emj)hasized  do  exist.  First,  the 
frequent  violations  of  probability  (which,  by  the 
way,  ought  not  to  have  been  so  offensive  to  a  ro- 
manticist) draw  tremendous  draughts  upon  the 
reader's  credulity ;  and  secondly,  the  lavish  mag- 
nificence of  imagery  rarely  adds  to  the  vividness  of 
the  situations,  but  rather  obscures  and  confuses 


ESAIAS  TEGNER  247 

them.  It  reminds  one  of  a  certain  style  of  barocque 
architecture  in  which  the  rage  for  ornamentation 
twists  every  line  into  a  scroll  or  spiral  or  arabesque, 
until  whatever  design  there  originally  was  is  lost 
in  a  riot  of  decoration.  The  metaphors  exist  for 
their  own  sake,  and  are  in  nowise  subordinate  to 
the  themes  which  they  profess  to  illustrate.  Take, 
for  instance,  the  oft-quoted  passage  : 

'*  Tlie  night  drew  near,  and  in  the  west 
Upon  its  couch  lay  Evening  dreaming, 
And  silent,  like  the  priests  of  Egypt, 
The  stars  pursued  their  radiant  paths, 
And  earth  stood  in  the  starry  eve, 
As  blissful  as  a  bride  who  stands, 
The  garland  in  her  dusky  hair, 
Beneath  the  baldaquin  and  blushes. 
Tired  of  the  games  of  day,  and  warm. 
The  Naiad  rested,  still  and  smiling, 
The  glow  of  evening  shone  resplendent, 
A  gorgeous  rose  upon  her  breast ; 
And  merry  Cupid,  who  had  slept 
When  sun  was  high,  awoke  and  rode 
Upon  the  moonbeams  up  and  down. 
With  bow  and  arrow,  through  the  forest." 

This  is  all  very  magnificent ;  but  the  images 
tread  so  close  upon  each  other's  heels,  that  they 
come  near  treading  each  other  down,  and  tumbling 
together  in  a  confused  jumble.  I  claim  no  orig- 
inality in  calling  attention  to  the  fact  that  it  must 
have  been  a  colossal  Naiad  who  could  wear  the 
evening  glow  like  '*^a  gorgeous  rose  upon  her 
breast.''     Likewise  former  critics  have  questioned 


248  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  T  URE 

whether  the  stars  gain  in  tlie  least  in  vividness 
by  being  compared  to  the  priests  of  Egypt,*  who 
were  certainly  far  less  familiar  to  the  reader^s 
vision. 

The  story  of  the  Swedish  officer  Axel  and  his 
beloved,  the  Cossack  Amazon,  Maria,  has  from  be- 
ginning to  end  a  flavor  of  Byron,  and  recalls  alter- 
nately ''the  Corsair"  and  "  Lara."  The  extrava- 
gant sentimentality  of  the  tale  appealed,  however, 
powerfully  to  the  contemporary  taste,  and  the  dis- 
senting voice  of  criticism  was  drowned  like  the 
shrill  note  of  a  single  fife  in  the  noisy  orchestra 
of  praise.  The  Swedish  matrons  and  maidens 
wept  over  Axel's  and  Maria's  heroic,  but  tragic 
love,  as  those  of  England,  nay,  of  all  Europe,  wept 
over  that  of  Conrad  and  Medora.  Maria,  when 
she  hears  that  Axel  has  a  betrothed  at  home,  en- 
lists as  a  man  in  the  Russian  army  (a  very  odd  pro- 
ceeding by  the  way,  and  scarcely  conducive  to  her 
purpose)  and  resolves  to  kill  her  rival.  She  is, 
however,  mortally  wounded,  and  Axel  finds  her  dy- 
ing upon  the  battlefield. 

"Yea,  it  was  slie  ;  with  smothered  pain 
She  whispers  with  a  voice  full  faint  : 
'  Good-evening,  Axel,  nay,  good-night, 
For  death  is  nestling  at  my  heart. 
Oh  !  ask  not  what  hath  brought  me  hither  ; 

*  L.  Dietrichson  :  Indledning  i  Studiet  af  Sveriges  Litteratiir. 
Kjobenhavn,  1803.  See  also  Svensk  Litteratur-Tidning  as  quoted 
in  B.  E.  Malmstrom :  Grunddragen  af  Svenska  Vitterhetens 
Historia,  vol.  v.,  p.  433.     Oerebro. 


ESAIAS   TEGNER  249 

'Twas  love  alone  led  me  astray. 

Alas  !  the  last  long  night  is  dusking  ; 

I  stand  before  the  grave's  dread  door. 

How  different  life,  with  all  its  small  distresses, 

Seems  now  from  what  it  seemed  of  yore  ! 

And  only  love — love  fair  as  ours, 

Can  I  take  with  me  to  the  skies.'  "  * 

This  is  exactly  the  Eyronic  note,  which  would 
be  still  more  audible,  if  I  had  preserved  the 
rhymed  couplets.  Even  Medora's  male  attire  is 
borrowed  by  Maria,  and  much  more  of  this  By- 
ronic  melodramatic  heroism  is  there,  only  a  lit- 
tle more  conventionally  draped  and  with  larger 
concessions  to  the  Philistine  sense  of  propriety. 
But  even  if  Tegner  in  ''  Axel"  had  coquetted  with 
the  Romantic  muse,  it  would  be  rash  to  conclude 
that  he  contemplated  any  durable  relation.  The 
note  which  he  had  struck  in  his  renowned  oration 
at  the  festival  commemorating  the  Eeformation 
(1817),  came  from  the  depth  of  his  heart,  and  con- 
tinued to  resound  through  his  siDcech  and  song  for 
many  years  to  come.  I  do  not  mean  to  imply,  of 
course,  that  the  Byronic  Eomanticism  was  very 
closely  akin  to  that  of  Tieck,  the  Schlegels,  and 
Novalis  ;  or  that  Tegner  in  the  least  compromised 
his  frank  and  manly  liberalism  by  composing  a 
variation,  as  it  were,  on  a  Byronic  theme.  How 
deeply  he  hated  the  mediisval  obscurantism  which 

*  The  original  is  in  the  rhymed  Byronic  metre,  mostly  in  coup- 
lets. In  order  not  to  sacrifice  anything  of  the  meaning  I  have 
chosen  to  put  it  into  blank  verse. 


250  SCA  NDINA  VIAN  LITER  A  TURE 

then,  under  the  anspices  of  Metternich  and  his 
unholy  "  Holy  Alliance  "  was  spreading  over  Eu- 
rope, he  showed  in  numerous  private  and  public 
utterances  concerning  the  political  condition  of 
Europe  after  the  fall  of  Napoleon.  His  greeting 
to  the  "New  Year,  1816"  (which  his  son-in-law 
has  foolishly  excluded  from  his  edition  of  the  col- 
lected works),  is  overbrimming  with  bitterness  at 
the  triumph  of  the  enemies  of  the  light. 

"  Hurrah !  Religion  is  a  Jesuit, 
The  rights  of  man  are  Jacobins ; 
The  world  is  free  ;  the  raven  is  white  ; 
Long  live  the  Pope — and  that  other  ; 
I  am  going  to  Germany,  and  there  I'll  learn 
Sonnets  to  sing  and  incense  to  burn. 

"  Welcome,  thou  New  Year,  with  murder  and  gloom, 
Stupidity,  lies,  and  fraud  ! 
I  hope  thou'lt  make  an  end  of  our  earth, 
A  bullet  at  least  she's  worth  ; 
She's  restless,  poor  thing,  like  many  another, 
A  shot  through  the  head — she'll  cause  no  more  bother !  " 

It  was  the  fashion  in  those  days  to  revile  the 
Eevolution,  because  it  had  produced  the  man  on 
horseback  who  hacj  turned  the  old  order  of  things 
topsy-turvy  in  -a,  very  unceremonious  fashion. 
Coleridge,  SoutYiey,  and  Wordsworth  in  England, 
and  Klopstock,  Schiller,  and  a  horde  of  lesser  lights 
in  Germany,  had  hailed  the  French  uprising  as  the 
bloody  dawn  of  a  new  and  more  glorious  day  ;  but 
the  excesses   of  the   Reign  of  Terror  frightened 


ESAIAS   TEGN^ER  25  I 

them  back  into  the  old  fastnesses  of  Conservatism. 
Tegner  (and  to  his  honor  be  it  said)  was  one  of 
the  few  who  did  not  despair  of  liberty  because  a 
people  born  and  bred  in  despotism  failed  to  exer- 
cise the  wisdom  and  self-restraint  which  only  lib- 
erty can  foster.  For  the  only  road  to  the  attain- 
ment of  liberty  is  its  practice  and  its  abnse,  and  the 
slow  education  which  can  be  acquired  by  no  theo- 
retical teaching,  but  only  in  the  hard  and  expensive 
school  of  experience.  For  the  terrible  birth-pangs 
of  liberty  no  despotically  governed  people  can  es- 
cape, unless  it  chooses  to  remain  in  thraldom. 

This  is  the  spirit  that  breathes  through  Tegner's 
speeches  and  poems,  during  his  most  vigorous  man- 
hood ;  and  even,  when  the  rift  in  his  lute  made 
its  music  harsh  and  uncertain,  the  strain  was  yet  es- 
sentially the  same,  though  transjoosed  into  an  alien 
key.  It  is  very  tempting  to  quote  the  many  noble 
sayings  of  this  master  of  the  commanding  phrase, 
but  one  or  two  must  suffice.  It  is  a  delight  to 
read  his  published  correspondence,  because  of  this 
power  of  strong  and  luminous  utterance,  which  he 
wields  with  such  Titanic  ease.  Then,  again,  there 
is  no  affectation  or  cant,  but  an  engaging  candor 
and  straightforwardness  which  bespeak  a  true  man, 
considering  the  time  when  they  were  written. 
What  clarity  of  political  vision  there  is  in  such 
passages  as  these  : 

'(1813.)  "He  who  fancies  that  Europe  will  be 
delivered  by  Russia  and  her  confederates,  or  that 
the  progress  of  the  Cossacks  is  for  the  advantage 


2  52  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LIT  ERA  TURE 

of  Sweden,  may  perhaps  be  in  the  right ;  but  his 
views  are  very  different  from  mine.  In  the  hatred 
of  the  Barbarians  I  am  born  and  bred,  and  I  hope 
to  die  in  it,  unbewildered  by  modern  sophisms." 

(1814.)  '^  Who  can  believe  in  the  re-establish- 
ment of  the  European  balance  of  power  or  rejoice 
in  the  victory  of  wretched  mediocrity  over  power 
and  genius.  The  upheavals  of  the  age  will  soon 
affect  us  all — at  least  us  Swedes." 

(1817)  ''  That  we  are  living  on  an  earth  yet 
quaking  from  the  French  Revolution  is  undenia- 
able  ;  and  extremely  foolish  seems  to  me  the  speech 
of  those  who  insist  that  the  Revolution  is  finished, 
or  even  apijroaching  its  end." 

"  Napoleon  fell,  not  on  account  of  his  wretched 
opponents,  but  because  despotism  is  the  livery  of 
all  strong  souls,  because  his  spirit  was  opposed  to 
the  spirit  of  the  age,  with  which  he  wrestled,  and 
which  was  stronger  than  he."  * 

Living  as  he  did  in  an  age  of  general  disillusion, 
Tegner  performed  an  important  service  in  endeav- 
oring to  stem  with  the  full  force  of  his  personality 
the  rising  tide  of  reaction.  How  much  he  accom- 
plished in  this  direction  is  difficult  to  estimate,  for 
we  can  never  know  what  turn  Swedish  affairs  might 
have  taken,  if  his  clarion  voice  had  not  been  heard. 
But  it  could  scarcely  fail  that  such  a  speech  as  the 
one  at  the  Festival  of  the  Reformation  (1817), 
delivered  in  the  presence  of  a  large  assembly  of 

*  Quoted  from  G.  Brandes :  Esaias  Tegnc'r  :  En  Litteraturpsy- 
chologisk  Studie.    Kjobenhavn,  1S78,  pp.  87  and  88. 


ESAIAS   TEGNER  253 

scholars  and  public  men^  must  liave  made  a  great 
impression,  and  in  a  hundred  direct  and  indirect 
ways  affected  public  opinion.  Luther  is  to  Tegner 
a  hero  of  liberty,  a  breaker  of  human  shackles,  a 
deliverer  from  spiritual  bondage  and  gloom. 

"  Luther  was  one  of  those  rare  historical  char- 
acters who  always,  in  whatever  they  undertake, 
by  their  very  manner,  surprise,  and  indelibly  im- 
press themselves  upon  the  memory.  There  was 
something  chivalrous,  I  could  almost  say  adven- 
turous, in  his  whole  personality,  in  his  whole  way 
of  beginning  and  prosecuting  an  enterprise.  He 
put  upon  whatever  he  did  the  stamp  of  an  almost 
inconceivable  greatness — of  an  almost  overwhelm- 
ing force.  His  mere  word  was  half  a  battle,  his 
deed  was  a  whole  one.  He  was  one  of  those  mighty 
souls  which,  like  certain  trees,  can  only  bloom  in 
a  storm.  His  whole  great,  rich,  marvellous  life 
has  always  seemed  to  me  like  an  epic  with  its  bat- 
tles and  its  final  victory.  Such  a  s^jirit  must  of 
necessity  make  room  for  itself,  and  decisively  assert 
itself  in  history,  in  whatever  direction  its  activity 
may  be  turned,  under  whatever  circumstances  and 
at  whatever  time  it  enters  upon  its  career.  The 
time  when  Luther  came  was  one  of  those  great  his- 
torical epochs  when  the  world  -  serpent  sheds  its 
skin  and  reappears  in  rejuvenated  shape.  .  .  . 
A  great  man,  even  the  very  greatest,  is  always  the 
son  of  his  age — only  he  is  the  eldest  son  ;  he  is  the 
deputy  and  executor  of  the  age.  The  age  is  his, 
and  he  administers  its  substance  according  to  his 


254  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

judgment.  He  finds  the  scattered  elements  to  his 
hand,  but  usually  tangled  up  and  struggling  in 
chaotic  disorder.  To  gather  and  arrange  them  into 
a  creation,  to  direct  them  toward  a  definite  goal, 
.  .  .  this  is  his  greatness  ;  this  is  his  creative 
powers.  ...  In  this  .  .  .  sense  Luther 
created  his  age."  * 

Dr.  Brandes  has  anticipated  me  in  calling  atten- 
tion to  the  fact  that  the  orator's  characterization 
of  Luther,  though  highly  interesting,  is  one-sided. 
But  as  his  admirable  monograph  on  Tegner  is  not 
accessible  to  English  readers,  I  feel  justified  in  re- 
peating his  argument  in  abbreviated  form.  There 
is  a  great  uniformity,  he  says,  in  substance,  in  all 
Tegner's  heroes.  They  are  all  men  of  action — bold, 
strong,  adventurous  heroes,  such  as  boys  delight  in. 
They  have  a  striking  family  resemblance.  With 
the  change  of  a  few  attributes  Tegner  applies  his 
characterization  of  Luther  to  such  a  widely  differ- 
ing personality  as  King  Gustavus  III.  of  Sweden, 
a  frivolous,  theatrical,  Frenchified,  infidel  monarch. 
And  Gustavus  Adolphus  and  Charles  XII.  are 
forced  into  the  same  livery,  in  spite  of  their  diver- 
sity of  structure,  because  Tegner  admired  them  all, 
and  had  practically  but  one  type  which  appeared 
to  his  frank,  open,  and  somewhat  boyish  fancy 
wholly  worthy  of  admiration,  f 

In  reading  consecutively  the  whole  series  of  Teg- 
ner's  collected  works  I  am  much  struck  with  the 

*  Esaias  Tegner's  Samlade  Skrifter,  vol.  v.,  pp.  6,  7,  9,  and  10. 
t  Georg  Brandes  :  Esaias  Tegner,  pp.  17-19. 


ESAIAS   TEGNER  255 

force  of  this  criticism.  The  brave  man  who  defies 
the  world  single-handed,  and  plunges  up  to  his  ears 
into  dangers,  without  counting  the  odds  against 
him,  is  the  typical  juvenile  hero  ;  and  it  is  strange, 
though  by  no  means  incomprehensible,  that  a  man 
like  Tegner,  who  could  betray  such  political  insight 
as  is  shown  in  his  letters  to  Franzen  and  Leopold 
had  not  really  gotten  beyond  this  primitive  type  of 
excellence.  In  a  certain  sense,  perhaps,  it  was  not 
desirable  that  he  should.  For  the  tremendous 
popularity  which  greeted  ^^Frithjof's  Saga"  was 
due  in  no  small  measure  to  this  half -juvenile 
robustness  of  its  author's  genius.  As  I  cannot 
heljj  regretting  in  myself  the  loss  of  my  boyish 
aj)petite  for  swashbuckling  marauders,  and  mys- 
terious treasure-diggers,  I  am,  indeed,  far  from 
deploring  Tegner's  delight  in  the  insane  prowess  of 
Charles  XII.,  or  the  gay  and  chivalrous  gallantry 
of  Gustavus  III.  There  is  a  sort  of  fine  salubri- 
ousness  in  it  which  makes  one,  on  the  whole,  like 
him  the  more. 

It  might  well  be  said  of  Tegner,  as  he  said  of 
Luther,  that  his  word  was  half  a  battle.  At  all 
events  he  accomplished  by  his  sj)eeches  a  complete 
overthrow  of  his  opponents  the.Phosphorists,  with- 
out engaging  in  the  barren  polemics  to  which  they 
invited  him.  He  waited  until  some  approj^riate 
public  occasion  occurred,  and  then  sjDoke  out  of 
the  -fulness  of  his  conviction.  And  his  words 
spread  like  undulating  waves  of  light  from  one 
end  of  the  land  to  the  other,  finding  lodgement  in 


256  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

tliousands  of  hearts.  Tims  his  beautiful  epilogue  at 
the  "magister  promotion"*  in  Lund  (1820)  was  a 
direct  manifesto  (and  a  most  incisive  one)  against 
that  mystic  obscurity  which,  according  to  the 
Phosphorists,  was  inseparable  from  the  highest 
and  deepest  poetic  utterance  : 

"In  vain  tliey  call  upon  the  lofty  Truth 
With  sombre  conjurations  ;  for  the  dark 
She  ne'er  endures ;  for  her  abode  is  light. 
In  Phoebus'  world,  in  knowledge  as  in  song, 
All  things  are  bright.     Bright  beams  the  radiant  sun  ; 
Clear  runs  and  pure  his  bright  Castalian  fountain. 
Whate'er  thou  canst  not  clearly  say  thou  know'st  not. 
Twin -born  with  thought  is  word  on  lips  of  man  ; 
That  which  is  darkly  said  is  darkly  thought ; 
For  wisdom  true  is  like  the  diamond, 
A  drop  that's  petrified  of  heavenly  light  ; 
The  purer  that  it  is,  the  more  its  value. 
The  more  the  daylight  shines  and  glitters  through  it. 
The  ancients  builded  unto  Truth  a  temple, 
A  fair  rotunda,  light  as  heaven's  vault. 
And  freely  poured  the  sunshine  from  all  sides 
Into  its  open  round  ;  the  winds  of  heaven 
Amid  its  ranks  of  pillars  gayly  gambolled. 
But  now  instead  we  build  a  Tower  of  Babel, 
A  heavy,  barbarous  structure.     Darkness  peeps 
From  out  its  deep  and  narrow  grated  casements. 
Unto  the  sky  the  tower  was  meant  to  reach, 
But  hitherto  we've  only  had  confusion. 
As  in  the  realm  of  thought,  in  that  of  song 
It  is  ;  and  poesy  is  e'er  transparent     .     .     .  " 

*  A  magister  promotion  corresponds  approximately  to  ovnr  uni- 
versity commencements.  It  is  the  ceremony  of  bestowing  the 
degree  of  master  of  arts. 


ESAIAS   TEGNER  257 

This  was  certainly  an  attractive  doctrine,  and  it 
did  not  fail  to  command  public  approval.  But  it 
suffers  from  exactly  the  same  limitation  as  Teg- 
ner's  gospel  of  joy.  It  is  only  relatively  (I  might 
almost  say  temperamentally)  true  ;  and  the  op- 
posite might  be  maintained  with  equal  force,  and 
in  fact  was  so  maintained  by  Atterbom,  who  de- 
clared (in  the  "  Poetical  Calendar  for  1821 ")  that 
there  can  be  no  such  a  conception  as  light  without 
darkness.  Darkness,  he  says,  is  the  condition  of  all 
color  and  form.  You  distinguish  the  light  and  all 
things  in  it  only  by  the  contrasting  effect  of  shad- 
ow— all  of  which,  I  fancy,  Tegner  would  not  have 
denied.  More  to  the  point  would  have  been  the 
query  whether  in  poetry  darkness  and  indistinct- 
ness are  synonymous  terms.  It  is  only  the  most 
commonplace  truths  whicli  can  be  made  intelligi- 
ble to  all.  Much  of  the  best  and  highest  thinking 
of  humanity  lies  above  the  plane  of  the  ordinary 
untrained  intellect.  "What  is  light  to  me  may  be 
twilight  or  darkness  to  you.  What  to  you  is  clear 
as  the  daylight,  may  to  me  be  as  densely  impene- 
trable as  the  Cimmerian  night.  Christ  himself 
recognized  this  fact  when  he  said  to  his  disciples  : 
**  I  have  yet  many  things  to  say  unto  you,  but  ye 
cannot  bear  them  now." 

For  all  that,  Tegner's  doctrine  was  in  its  effect 
wholesome.  It  discouraged  the  writers  of  the 
Eomantic  School,  who  under  the  guise  of  profun- 
dity gave  publicity  to  much  immature  and  confused 
thinking.  He  was  no  doubt  right  in  saying  that 
17 


258  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

"a  poetry  which  commences  with  whooping-cough 
is  likely  to  end  in  consumption."  His. frequently 
repeated  maxim,  that  poetry  is  nothing  but  the 
health  of  life,  "  occasioned  by  an  abounding  in- 
tellectual vigor,  a  joyous  leap  over  the  barriers  of 
everyday  life,"  applied,  however,  to  his  own  poetry 
only  so  long  as  his  vigor  was  unimpaired.  His 
terrible  poem  "■  Hypochondria  "  {Mjeltsjukan)  is 
to  me  no  less  poetical  because  it  is  not  "  a  petrified 
drop  of  heavenly  light,"  and  mocks  all  the  cheer- 
ful theories  of  its  author's  prime. 

Tegner  had  yet  a  few  years  in  which  to  rejoice 
in  this  "  health  of  life  "  in  which  he  found  the  in- 
spiration for  his  song  ;  and  these  last  years  were 
the  most  fruitful  in  his  entire  career.  He  was 
about  forty  years  of  age  when,  in  1820,  he  began 
to  comj)ose  the  first  cantos  of  "  Frithjof's  Saga." 
He  was  living  in  modest  comfort,  happy  in  his 
marital  relation,  and  surrounded  by  a  family  of 
children  to  whom  he  was  a  most  affectionate 
father.  He  could  romp  and  play  with  his  curly- 
headed  boys  and  girls  without  any  loss  of  dignity  ; 
and  they  loved  nothing  better  than  to  invade  his 
study.  Next  to  them  in  his  regard  was  a  black- 
nosed  pug,  named  Atis,  who  invariably  accompa- 
nied him  to  his  lectures  and  remained  sitting  at 
his  feet  listening  with  intelligent  gravity  to  his 
explanations  of  the  Greek  poets.  If  by  chance  his 
master,  in  his  zeal  for  his  own  poetry,  forgot  the 
lecture-hour,  Atis  would  respectfully  pull  him  by 
the  tails  of  his  coat.     No  man  at  the  University  of 


ESAIAS   TEGNER  259 

Lnnd  was  more  generally  beloved  than  Tegner, 
and  all  honors  which  the  University  could  bestow 
had  been  offered  to  him.  The  office  of  Rector 
Magnificns  he  had,  however,  persisted  in  declin- 
ing. 

There  was  at  that  time  a  general  revival  of  in- 
terest in  the  so-called  saga-age.  The  Danish  poet, 
Oehlenschliiger,  had  published  his  old-Norse  cycle 
of  poems,  "Helge,"  which  aroused  a  sympathetic 
reverberation  in  Tegner's  mind.  The  idea  took 
possession  of  him  that  here  was  a  theme  which 
lay  well  within  the  range  of  his  own  voice,  and  full 
of  alluring  possibilities.  Accordingly  he  chose 
the  ancient  ''Saga  of  Frithjof  the  Bold,"  and  re- 
solved to  embody  in  it  all  the  characteristic  feat- 
ures of  the  old  heroic  life.  And  what  Oehlen- 
schlager  had  attempted  to  do,  and  partly  succeeded 
in  doing,  he  accomplished  with  a  completeness  of 
success  which  was  a  surprise  to  himself.  No  soon- 
er had  "  Iduna,"  the  organ  of  the  Gothic  League, 
published  the  first  nine  cantos  (1821),  than  all 
Sweden  resounded  with  enthusiastic  applause  ;  and 
even  from  beyond  the  boundaries  of  the  fatherland 
came  voices  of  praise.  When  the  completed  poem 
appeared  in  book-form,  it  was  translated  into  all 
civilized  languages,  and  everywhere,  in  spite  of  the 
translators'  shortcomings,  it  was  hailed  with  de- 
light.. Not  only  England,  France,  and  Germany 
hastened  to  appropriate  it,  but  even  in  Spain, 
Greece,  and  Eussia  tears  were  shed  over  "■  Inge- 
borg's  Lament,"  and  tender    bosoms    palpitated 


260  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

witli  sympathy  for  Fritlijof  s  sorrows.  I  know  a 
dozen  English  translations  of  "Frithjof's  Saga^' 
(a  friend  of  mine,  who  is  a  bibliophile,  assures  me 
that  the  exact  number  is  at  present  twenty-one), 
and  of  German  versions  the  number  is  not  very 
much  less.  A  Norwegian  (or  rather  Danish)  ren- 
dering was  presented  to  me  on  my  twelfth  birth- 
day ;  and  the  sentiment  which  then  most  forcibly 
appealed  to  me  was,  as  I  vividly  remember,  em- 
bodied in  the  following  verse,  in  which  Bjorn 
chides  his  friend's  grief  for  the  loss  of  his  be- 
loved : 

"  Frithjof,  'tis  time  for  yoiar  folly's  abating  ; 
Sigh  and  lament  for  a  woman's  loss  : 
Earth  is,  alas,  too  full  of  such  dross  ; 
One  may  be  lost,  still  a  thousand  are  waiting. 
Say  but  the  word,  of  such  goods  I  will  bring 
Quickly  a  cargo — the  Southland  can  spare  them, 
Eed  as  the  rose,  mild  as  lambs  in  the  spring  ; 
Then  we'll  cast  lots,  or  as  brothers  we'll  share  them."  * 

It  was  not  the  unconscious  humor  of  this  prop- 
osition which  struck  me  the  most  in  those  days ; 
but  it  was  the  bluff  frankness  of  the  gruff  old  vi- 
king which  then  seemed  truly  admirable.  In  fact, 
I  am  not  sure  but  that  Bjorn  appeared  to  me  a 
more  sympathetic  figure  than  Frithjof.  But  a  lit- 
tle later  it  dawned  upon  me  that  his  utter  lack 
of  chivalry  was  rather  revolting  ;  and  I  began  to 
marvel  at  my  former  admiration.     At  fourteen  the 

*  Holcomb's  translation. 


ESAIAS    TEGNER  26 1 

following  verse  (which  at  twelve  was  charmingly 
heroic)  caused  me  to  revise  my  opinion  of  Bjorn : 

"  Good  !  to  King  Ring  it  shall  be  my  glad  duty 
Something  to  teach  of  a  wronged  viking's  power  ; 
Fire  we  his  palace  at  midnight's  still  hour, 
Scorch  the  old  gray  beard  and  bear  off  the  beavity." 

For  all  that,  Bjorn  with  his  rough  speech  and 
hearty  delight  in  fighting  and  drinking,  is  far  truer 
to  the  spirit  of  the  old  heroic  age  than  is  Frith- 
jof  with  his  sentimentality  and  lovesick  reveries. 
This  verse,  for  instance,  is  replete  with  the  briny 
breath  of  the  northern  main.  The  north  wind 
blows  through  it  : 

"  Good  is  the  sea,  your  comi^laining  you  squander, 
Freedom  and  joy  on  the  sea  flourish  best. 
He  never  knoweth  effeminate  rest 
Who  on  the  billows  delighteth  to  wander. 
When  I  am  old,  to  tlie  green-growing  land 
I,  too,  will  cling,  with  the  grass  for  my  pillow. 
Now  I  will  drink  and  will  fight  with  free  hand, 
Now  I'll  enjoy  my  own  sorrow  free  billow." 

I  might  continue  in  the  autobiographical  vein  ; 
but  must  forbear.  For  there  is  a  period  in  the 
life  of  every  young  Norseman  when,  untroubled  by 
its  anachronism,  he  glories  in  Frithjof's  melan- 
choly mooning,  his  praise  of  Ingeborg,  his  mis- 
antliropy,  and  all  the  manifold  moods  of  love  so 
enchantingly  expressed  in  Tegner's  melodious 
verse. 

When  a  book  acquires  this  significance  as  an  ex- 


262     SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

pression  of  the  typical  experience  in  the  lives  of 
thousands,  the  critical  muse  can  but  join  in  the 
general  chorus,  and  find  jDrofound  reasons  for  the 
universal  praise.  In  the  case  of  "Frithjof's  Saga  " 
this  is  not  a  difficult  matter.  From  beginning  to 
end  the  poem  has  a  lyrical  intensity  which  sets  the 
mind  vibrating  with  a  resjionsive  emotion.  It  is 
not  a  coldly  impersonal  epic,  recounting  remote 
heroic  events  ;  but  there  is  a  deeply  personal  note 
in  it,  which  has  that  nameless  moving  quality — 
la  note  ^miie,  as  the  French  call  it — which  brings 
the  tear  to  your  eye,  and  sends  a  delicious  breeze 
through  your  nerves.  All  that,  to  be  sure,  or 
nearly  all  of  it,  evaporates  in  translation  ;  for  no 
more  than  you  can  transfer  the  exquisite  dewy  in- 
tactness  of  the  lily  to  canvas  can  you  transfer  the 
rapturous  melody  of  noble  verse  into  an  alien 
tongue.  The  subtlest  harmonies  —  those  upon 
which  the  thrill  depends — are  invariably  lost.  If 
Longfellow,  instead  of  giving  us  two  cantos,  had 
translated  the  whole  poem,  we  should,  at  least, 
have  possessed  an  English  version  which  would 
have  afforded  us  some  conception  of  the  charm  of 
the  renowned  original. 

"  The  objections  to  "  Frithjof's  Saga "  which 
have  been  urged  by  numerous  critics  may  all  be 
admitted  as  more  or  less  valid  ;  yet  something  re- 
mains which  will  account  for  its  astounding  popu- 
larity. Tegner  at  the  time  when  he  was  singing 
of  Frithjof's  and  Ingeborg's  love  was  himself  suf- 
fering from  a  consuming  but  unrequited  passion. 


ESAIAS   TEGNER  263 

The  strong,  warm  pulse  of  life  which  throbs  iu 
Frithjof's  wrath,  defiance,  and  scorn,  and  in  his 
deejD  and  manl}^  tenderness  is  the  poet's  o's\ai.  It 
marks  but  the  rhythm  of  his  own  tumultuous 
heart-beat.  It  is  altogether  an  unhappy  chapter, 
which  his  biographer  has  vainly  striven  to  sup- 
press. There  was  among  his  acquaintance  in 
Lund  a  certain  Mrs.  Palm,  toward  whom  he  felt 
drawn  with  an  irresistible  half -demonic  force. 
Beyond  this  fact  we  know  nothing  of  the  lady, 
except  that  she  was  handsome,  cultivated,  and 
well  -  connected.  Whatever  approaches  Tegner 
may  have  made  toward  her  (and  it  is  not  known 
of  what  nature  they  were)  she  appears  to  have  re- 
pelled ;  and  the  poet,  though  fighting  desperate- 
ly against  his  growing  infatuation,  wore  out  his 
splendid  vitality  in  the  confiict  of  emotions  which 
the  unhappy  relation  occasioned.  He  became  a 
prey  to  the  most  terrible  melancholy,  and  a  misan- 
thropy of  the  deejDest  hue  sjDread  its  sombre  veil 
over  the  world  which  hitherto  had  given  to  him 
its  brightest  smile.  The  dread  of  insanity  became 
an  idee  fixe  with  him ;  and  the  pathetic  cry, 
"  God  preserve  my  reason,"  rings  again  and  again 
through  his  private  correspondence.  One  of  his 
bro.thers  was  insane  ;  and  he  fancied  that  there 
must  be  a  taint  in  his  blood  which  menaced  him 
with  the  same  tragic  doom. 

Happily,  he  could  as  yet  conjure  the  storm.  It 
hung  threateningly  on  the  horizon  of  his  mind, 
with  mutterings  of  thunder  and  stray  flashes  of 


264  SCANDINA  VI AN  LITER  A  TURE 

lightning.  But  his  poetic  bark  still  sped  along 
with  full  sails,  bravely  breasting  the  waves. 

"  Und  wenn  der  Menscli  in  seiner  Qua!  -^prst-n^T^  , 
Gab  mir  ein  Gott  zu  sagen  was  i^ 

says  Goethe.  And  this  divine  giii  of  sa^x.  ^,  or, 
better  still,  of  singing,  what  he  suffered  made  Teg- 
ner,  during  this  period,  master  of  his  sufferings. 
They  did  not  overwhelm  him  and  ruin  his  useful- 
ness. On  the  contrary,  these  were  the  most  active 
and  fruitful  years  of  his  life.  But  it  was  the  deep 
agitation  which  possessed  him — it  was  the  sup- 
pressed tumult  of  his  strong  soul  which  vibrated 
through  "Frithjof  "  and  which  imparted  to  it  that 
vital  quality,  that  moving  ring  which  arouses  the 
deeper  feelings  in  the  human  heart. 

Archseologically  the  poem  was  not  correct,  and 
was  not  meant  to  be.  Tegner  distinctly  dis- 
claimed the  intention  of  producing  a  historically 
accurate  picture  of  the  saga  age  ;  and  all  criticism 
censuring  the  modernness  of  Frithjof's  and  Inge- 
borg's  sentiments  is,  therefore,  according  to  his 
idea,  wide  of  the  mark.  I  do  not  quite  agree  with 
his  point  of  view,  but  will  state  his  argument. 
For  the  historical  Frithjof,  as  he  is  represented  in 
the  ancient  Norse  saga  bearing  his  name,  Tegner 
cared  but  little.  What  he  wished  to  do  was  to 
give  a  poetic  presentation  of  the  old  heroic  life, 
and  he  chose  Frithjof  as  his  representative  of  this 
age  because  he  united  in  himself  so  many  of  its 
characteristics : 


ESAIAS  TEGNER  265 

"  In  the  saga  miicli  occurs  wliicli  is  very  grand  and  lie- 
roic,  and  hence  valid  for  all  times,  which  both  might  and 
ought  to  be  retained  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  a  great  deal 
occurs  which  is  rough,  savage,  barbarous  ;  and  this  had 
either  to  be  entirely  eliminated,  or  at  least  materially  sof- 
tened. Up  to  a  certain  degree  it  therefore  became  neces- 
sary to  modernize ;  but  the  difficulty  was  to  find  the  golden 
mean.  On  the  one  hand,  the  poem  ought  not  to  offend  too 
much  our  more  refined  manners  and  gentler  modes  of 
thought;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  the  natural  quality,  the 
freshness,  the  truth  to  nature  ought  not  to  be  sacrificed." 

Tegner  fancies  lie  has  solved  this  problem  by 
retaining  in  Frithjof  the  fundamental  traits  of 
all  heroism,  viz.,  nobility,  magnanimity,  courage  ; 
but  at  the  same  time  nationalizing  them  by  giving 
them  a  distinctly  Scandinavian  tinge.  And  this 
he  has  done  by  making  his  hero  almost  wantonly 
defiant,  stubborn,  pugnacious.  As  Ingeborg,  la- 
menting his  fierce  pugnacity,  and  yet  glorying  in 
it,  says  : 

"  How  glad,  how  stubborn,  and  how  full  of  hope  ! 
The  point  he  setteth  of  his  trusty  sword 
Against  the  breast  of  Fate  and  crieth,  Thou  must  yield." 

"  Another  peculiarity  of  the  Norseman's  character  is  a 
certain  tendency  to  sadness  and  melancholy  which  is  habit- 
ual with  all  deeper  natures.  An  elegiac  tone  pervades  all 
our  old  national  melodies,  and,  generally  speaking,  all  that 
is  of  significance  in  our  history  ;  for  it  rises  from  the  very 
bottom  of  the  nation's  heart.  There  is  a  certain  joyousness 
(commonly  attributed  to  the  French)  which  in  the  last  in- 
stance is  only  levity.  But  the  joyousness  of  the  North  is 
fundamentally  serious  ;  for  which  reason  I  have  in  Frithjof 


2  66     SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

endeavored  to  give  a  hint  of  this  brooding  melancholy  in 
his  repentance  of  the  unintentional  burning  of  the  temple, 
his  brooding  fear  of  Balder, 

"Who  sits  in  the  sky,  and  the  thoughts  he  sends  down, 
Which  forever  are  clouding  my  mind." 

It  will  be  seen  from  this  that  Tegner  was  fully 
conscious  of  what  he  was  doing.  He  civilized 
Frithjof,  because  he  was  addressing  a  civilized 
audience  which  would  have  taken  little  interest  in 
the  rude  viking  of  the  eighth  century,  if  he  had 
been  presented  to  them  in  all  his  savage  unre- 
straint. He  did  exactly  what  Tennyson  did,  when 
he  made  King  Arthur  the  model  of  a  modern  Eng- 
lish gentleman  and  (by  implication)  a  Protestant 
a  thousand  years  before  Protestantism  existed. 
Ingeborg,  too,  had  to  be  a  trifle  modified  and  dis- 
embarrassed of  a  few  somewhat  too  naturalistic 
traits  with  which  the  saga  endows  her,  before  she 
became  the  lovely  type  that  she  is  of  the  faithful, 
loving,  long-sufl'ering,  womanhood  of  the  North, 
with  trustful  blue  eyes,  golden  hair,  and  a  heart 
full  of  sweet  and  beautiful  sentiment.  It  was 
because  Oehlenschliiger  had  neglected  to  make 
sufficient  concessions  to  modern  demands  that  his 
''  Helge  "  (though  in  some  respects  a  greater  poem 
than  "^ Frith j of s  Saga")  never  crossed  the  boun- 
dary of  Scandinavia,  and  even  there  made  no  deep 
impression  upon  the  general  public. 

Though  the  story  of  '^Frithjof"  is  familiar  to 
most  readers,  I  may  be  pardoned  for  presenting  a 


ESAIAS   TEGNER  26/ 

brief  resume.  The  general  plot,  in  Tegner's  version, 
coincides  in  its  main  outlines  with  that  of  the  saga. 
Frithjof,  the  son  of  the  free  yeoman  Thorstein 
Vikingson,  is  fostered  in  the  house  of  the  peasant 
Hilding,  with  Ingeborg,  the  daughter  of  King 
Bele  of  Sogn.  The  King  and  the  yeoman  have 
been  life-long  friends,  and  each  has  a  most  cordial 
regard  for  the  other. 

"  By  sword  upheld,  King  Bele  in  King's  hall  stood, 
Beside  him  Thorstein  Vikingson,  that  yeoman  good, 
His  battle-friend  with  almost  a  century  hoary, 
And  deep-marked  like  a  rune-stone  with  scars  of  glory." 

The  yeoman's  son  and  the  king's  daughter, 
thrown  into  daily  companionship  in  their  foster- 
father's  hall,  love  each  other  ;  and  Frithjof,  after 
the  death  of  their  fathers,  goes  to  Ingeborg's 
brothers,  Helge  and  Halfdan,  and  asks  her  hand  in 
marriage.  His  suit  is  scornfully  rejected,  and  he 
departs  in  wrath  vowing  vengeance.  The  ancient 
King  Ring,  of  Eingerike,  having  heard  of  Inge- 
borg's beauty,  sends  also  ambassadors  to  woo  her. 
Her  brothers  make  sacrifices  in  order  to  ascertain 
the  will  of  the  gods.  The  omens  are  inauspicious, 
and  they  accordingly  feel  compelled  to  decline  the 
King's  offer. 

Ingeborg  is  shut  up  in  Balder's  Grove,  where 
the  sanctity  of  the  temple  would  make  it  sacrilege 
for  any  one  to  approach  her.  Frithjof,  however, 
braves  the  wrath  of  the  god,  and  sails  every  night 
across  the  fjord  to  a  stolen   rendezvous  with  his 


268  SCA  NDINA  VI AN  LITER  A  TURE 

beloved.  The  canto  called  ''  Frithjof  s  Happiness," 
whicli  is  brimming  over  with  a  swelling  redun- 
dance of  sentiment,  is  so  cloyingly  sweet  that  the 
reader  must  himself  be  in  love  in  order  to  enjoy 
it.  It  is  written  in  the  key  of  the  watch-songs  of 
the  German  minnesingers  and  the  anbades  of 
Proven9al  troubadours.  The  Norse  note  is  not 
only  wanting,  but  would  never  fit  into  that  key  : 

"  *  Hush  I  'tis  the  lark.'     Nay,  those  soft  numbers 

Of  doves'  faith  tell  that  knows  no  rest. 
The  lark  yet  on  the  hillside  slumbers 

Beside  his  mate  in  grassy  nest. 
To  them  no  king  seals  his  dominions 

When  morning  breaks  in  eastern  air  ; 
Their  life  is  free  as  are  their  pinions 

Which  bear  aloft  the  gladsome  pair. 

*'  *  See  day  is  breaking !  '     Nay,  some  tower 

Far  eastward  sendeth  forth  that  light ; 
We  yet  may  spend  another  hour, 

Not  yet  shall  end  the  precious  night. 
]yXay  sleep,  thou  sun,  thee  long  encumber, 

And  waking  may'st  thou  linger  still, 
For  Frithjof's  sake  may'st  freely  slumber 

Till  Ragnarok,  be  such  thy  will. 

' '  Vain  hope !     The  day  its  gray  discloses, 

Already  morning  breezes  blow, 
Already  bend  the  eastern  roses, 

As  fresh  as  Ingeborg's  can  glow  ; 
The  winged  songsters  mount  and  twitter 

(The  thoughtless  throng !)  along  the  sky, 
And  life  starts  forth,  and  billows  glitter, 

And  far  the  shades  and  lover  fly. 


i 


ESAIAS   TEGNER  269 

"  Farewell,  beloved  :  till  some  longer 

And  fairer  eve  we  meet  again. 
By  one  kiss  on  thy  brow  the  stronger 

Let  me  depart — thy  lips,  once,  then  ! 
Sleep  now  and  dream  of  me,  and  waken 

When  mid-day  comes,  and  faithful  tell 
The  hours  as  I  yearn  forsaken, 

And  sigh  as  I !     Farewell,  farewell !  "  * 

The  two  following  cantos^  entitled  ''  The  Part- 
ing ^^  and  "Ingeborg's  Lament/' though  liable  to 
the  same  criticism  as  their  predecessor,  are,  with  all 
their  sentimental  effusiveness,  beautiful.  No  lover, 
I  fancy,  ever  found  them  redundant,  overstrained, 
spoiled  by  the  lavish  splendor  of  their  imagery. 
Tegner  has  accomplished  the  remarkable  feat  of 
interveining,  as  it  were,  his  academic  rhetoric  with 
a  blood-red  humanity,  and  making  the  warm  pulse 
of  experience  throb  through  the  stately  phrases. 

King  Ring,  incensed  at  the  rejection  of  his  suit, 
declares  war  against  Helge  and  Halfdan,  who  in 
their  dire  need  ask  Frithjof's  aid,  which  is  promjDtly 
refused.  In  order  to  be  rid  of  him  they  then  send 
him  on  an  expedition  to  the  Orkneys,  to  collect  a 
tribute  which  is  due  to  them  from  Earl  Angantyr. 
He  entreats  Ingeborg  to  flee  with  him  ;  but  she 
refuses.  She  sees  from  Balder's  Grove  his  good 
ship  Ellida  breasting  the  waves  and  weeps  bitter 
tears  at  his  loss  : 

"  Swell  not  so  high, 
Billows  of  blue  with  your  deafening  cry  f 

*  Translation  of  L,  A.  Sherman,  Ph.D.     Boston,  1878. 


2/0  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

Stars,  lend  assistance,  a  sliining 
Pathway  defining ! 

"With  the  spring  doves 
Frithjof  will  come,  but  the  maiden  he  loves 
Cannot  in  hall  or  dell  meet  him, 
Lovingly  greet  him. 

Buried  she  sleeps 
Dead  for  love's  sake,  or  bleeding  she  weeps 
Heart-broken,  given  by  her  brother 
Unto  another." 

It  is  perfectly  in  keeping  with  the  character  of 
Norse  womanhood  in  the  saga  age  that  Ingeborg 
should  refuse  to  defy  her  brother's  authority  by 
fleeing  with  Frithjof  and  yet  deeply  mourn  his  de- 
parture without  her.  The  family  feeling,  the  bond 
of  blood,  was  exceptionally  strong ;  and  submis- 
sion to  the  social  code  which  made  the  male  head 
of  the  house  the  arbiter  of  his  sister's  fate  was 
bred  in  the  bone.  It  is,  therefore,  perfectly  nat- 
ural that,  when  King  Ring  has  beaten  her  brothers 
in  battle,  and  exacted  Ingeborg  as  the  prize  of  vic- 
tory, she  yields  unmurmuringly  to  their  decree. 

Frithjof,  in  the  meanwhile,  distinguishes  him- 
self greatly  in  the  Orkneys  by  his  strength  and 
prowess,  gains  Earl  Angantyr's  friendship,  and  re- 
turns with  the  tribute.  As  he  sails  into  the  fjord, 
a  sight  greets  him  which  makes  his  heart  quail. 
Framnaes,  his  paternal  estate,  is  burnt  to  the 
ground,  and  the  charred  beams  lie  in  a  ruined  heap 
under  the  smiling  sky.  The  kings,  though  they 
had  pledged  their  honor  that  they  would  not  harm 


ESAIAS   TEGNER  271 

his  property,  had  broken  faith  with  him ;  aud 
Ingeborg,  in  the  hope  of  gaining  whom  he  had 
undertaken  the  perilous  voyage,  was  wedded  to 
King  King.  In  a  white-heat  of  wrath  and  sorrow 
Frithjof  starts  out  to  call  her  perjured  brothers 
to  account.  He  finds  them  in  the  temple  in  Bal- 
ders  Grove,  preparing  for  the  sacrifice.  There  he 
flings  the  bag  containing  the  tribute  into  King 
Helge^s  face,  knocking  out  his  front  teeth,  and 
observing  on  his  wife's  arm  the  ring  with  which 
he  had  once  pledged  Ingeborg,  he  rushes  at  her 
to  recover  it.  The  woman,  who  had  been  warming 
the  wooden  image  of  Balder  before  the  fire,  drops, 
in  her  fright,  the  idol  into  the  flame.  Frithjof 
seizes  her  by  the  arm  and  snatches  the  ring  from 
her.  In  the  general  confusion  that  follows  the 
temple  takes  fire,  and  all  attempts  to  quench  the 
flames  are  futile.  In  consequence  of  this  sacrilege 
Frithjof  is  outlawed  at  the  Tiling  2i%2^vargr-%-ve,um, 
i.e.,  wolf  in  the  sanctuary,  and  is  forced  to  go 
into  exile.  His  farewell  to  his  native  land  strikes 
one  as  being  altogether  out  of  tune.  The  old 
Norse  viking  is  made  to  anticipate  sentiments 
which  are  of  far  later  growth  ;  but  for  all  that 
the  verses  are  quite  stirring  : 

"Brow  of  creation, 

Thovi  North  sublime ! 
I  have  no  station 

Within  thy  clime. 
Proud,  hence  descended 

My  race  I  tell ; 


2T2  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

Of  heroes  splendid, 
Fond  nurse,  farewell ! 

My  love  false-hearted, 

My  manor  burned, 
My  name  departed, 

An  outlaw,  spurned, 
I  now  appealing 

From  earth,  will  dwell 
With  waves,  for  healing. 

Farewell,  farewell !  "  * 

Frithjof  now  roams  for  many  years  over  the  sea 
as  a  viking,  and  gains  mucli  booty  and  honor.  His 
viking  code;,  with  its  swift  anapestic  rhytlim,  has  a 
breezy  melody  which  sings  in  the  ear.  It  is  an 
attempt  to  embody  the  ethics  of  Norse  warfare  at 
its  best,  and  to  present  in  the  most  poetic  light  the 
rampant,  untamable  individualism  of  the  ancient 
Germanic  paganism.  In  defiance  of  his  friend 
Bjorn's  advice,  Frithjof,  weary  of  this  bootless  chase 
for  glory  and  pelf,  resolves  to  see  Ingeborg  once 
more  before  he  dies,  and,  disguised  as  a  salt-boiler, 
he  enters  King  Ring's  hall.  There  he  sees  his  be- 
loved sitting  in  the  high-seat  beside  her  aged  lord ; 
and  the  sorrow  which  the  years  had  dulled  revives 
with  an  exquisite  agony.  He  punishes  with  fierce 
promptitude  one  of  the  King's  men  who  insults 
him  ;  and  his  answer  to  the  King's  rebuke  betrays 
him  as  a  man  of  rank  and  station.  He  then  throws 
away  his  disguise,  without,  however,  revealing  his 
name,  but  Ingeborg  instantly  recognizes  him, 
*  Sherman's  translation. 


ESAIAS  TEGNER  27$ 

''Then  even  to  her  temples  the  queen's  deep  blushes  sped, 
As  when  the  northlight  tinges  the  snow-clad  fields  with  red, 
And  like  two  full-blown  lilies  on  racking  waves  which  rest, 
With  ill-concealed  emotion  so  heaved  her  throbbing  breast." 

The  king  now  invites  the  stranger,  who  calls 
himself  Thjof,  to  remain  his  guest  during  the 
winter,  and  Frithjof  accepts.  He  makes,  however, 
no  approach  to  Ingeborg,  with  whom  he  scarcely 
exchanges  a  single  word.  During  a  sleigh-ride  on 
the  ice  he  saves,  by  a  tremendous  feat  of  strength, 
the  life  of  the  king  and  queen.  "With  the  coming 
of  the  spring  preparations  are  made  for  a  grand 
chase,  in  which  Frithjof  participates. 

"  Spring  is  coming,  birds  are   twittering,  forests  leaf,  and 

smiles  the  sun  ; 
And  the  loosened  torrents  downward  singing  to  the  ocean 

run  ; 
Glowing  like  the  cheek  of  Freya,  peeping  rosebuds  'gin 

to  ope, 
And  in  human  hearts  awaken  love  of  life  and  joy  and 

hope." 

The  canto  called  "^^  The  Temptation"  contains 
the  most  dramatic  and  altogether  the  most  beauii- 
ful  situation  in  the  poem.  The  old  king,  feigning 
weariness,  begs  Frithjof  to  tarry  with  him  alone, 
while  he  takes  a  rest.  Frithjof  tries  to  dissuade 
him,  but  in  vain. 

"Then   threw   Frithjof   down   his   mantle,    and   upon  the 
green  sward  spread ; 
And  the  ancient  king,  so  trustful,  laid  on  Frithjof s  knee 
his  head ; 
18 


274  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

Slept  as  calmly  as  tlie  hero  sleepeth  after  war's  alarms 
On  his  shield,  calm  as  an  infant  slumbers  in  its  mother's 
arms." 

Then  the  temptation  comes  to  Frithjof  to  slay 
the  old  man  who  had  stolen  his  bride  ;  but  after  a 
brief  struggle  he  hurls  his  sword  far  away  into  the 
forest. 

"  Straight  the  ancient  king  awakens.     'Sweet  has  been  my 

sleep,'  he  said. 
'  Pleasant  'tis  to  sleep  in  shadow,  guarded  by  a  brave  man's 

blade. 
But  where  is  thy  sword,  O  stranger,  lightning's  brother, 

where  is  he  ? 
Who  has  parted  one  from  other  that  should  never  parted 

be  ?  '" 

"  *  Not  a  whit  care  I,'  said  Frithjof,  '  I  shall  find  a  sword 

some  day ; 
Sharp,  O  King,  are  tongues  of  falchions,  words  of  peace 

they  seldom  say  ; 
In  the  steel  dwell  swarthy  demons,  demons  strayed  from 

Nifelhem, 
No  man's  sleep  to  them  is  sacred,  silver  locks  embitter 

them.' 

"  'Youth,  no  moment  have  I  slumbered,  but  to  prove  thee 
feigned  to  rest, 

Unproved  men  and  weapons  never  trusts  King  Ring  with- 
out a  test. 

Thou  art  Frithjof.  I  have  known  thee  since  thou  first 
cam'st  to  my  hall ; 

Much  that  thou  hast  hidden  from  me  ;  from  the  first  I 
guessed  it  all.'  " 

Soon  after  this  interview  the  aged  king  feels 
death  approaching ;  and  in  order  not  to  go  to  the 


ESAIAS   TEGNER  275 

dark  abode  of  Hela,  he  cuts  deatli-runes  upon  his 
breast  and  ascends  to  Odin's  bright  hall.  But  be- 
fore dying  he  gives  Ingeborg  to  Frithjof,  and  makes 
him  the  guardian  of  his  son.  The  people,  in  Thing 
assembled,  glorying  in  Frithjof's  great  renown,  de- 
sire, however,  to  make  him  Ring's  successor ;  but 
he  lifts  the  small  boy  above  his  head  upon  his  shield 
and  proclaims  him  king.  He  returns  home  and 
rebuilds  Balder's  temple,  whereupon  the  sentence 
of  outlawry  is  removed,  and  he  is  reconciled  to 
Ingeborg's  brothers  and  marries  the  beloved  of  his 
youth. 

The  last  canto,  called  "  The  Atonement,"  is 
perhaps  the  most  flagrant  violation  of  historical 
verisimilitude  in  the  whole  epic.  A  hoary  priest 
of  Balder  actually  performs  the  wedding  ceremony 
in  the  restored  temple,  and  pronounces  a  somewhat 
unctuous  wedding  oration,  which  differs  from  those 
which  Tegner  himself  had  frequently  delivered 
chiefly  in  the  substitution  of  pagan  for  the  Chris- 
tian deities.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  marriage  was  a 
purely  civil  contract  among  the  ancient  Norsemen, 
and  had  no  association  with  the  temjile  or  the 
priesthood, ,  which,  by  the  way,  was  no  separate 
office  but  a  patriarchal  function  belonging  to  the 
secular  chieftainship.  But  Tegner's  public  Avere  in 
nowise  shocked  by  anachronisms  of  this  sort ; 
they  probably  rejoiced  the  more  heartily  in  the 
happiness  of  the  reunited  lovers,  because  their 
marriage  was,  according  to  modern  notions,  so 
*'  regular." 


2^6  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

It  was  soon  after  liis  publication  of  "  Frith j of 's 
Saga  '^  that  Tegner  became  Bishop  of  Wexio.  He 
then  removed  from  Lund  and  took  up  his  residence 
upon  the  estate  Oestrabo,  near  the  principal  town 
in  his  diocese.  The  great  fame  of  his  poem  came 
to  him  as  a  surprise  ;  and  he  even  undertook  to 
Ijrotest  against  it^  declaring  with  perfect  sincerity 
that  he  held  it  to  be  undeserved.  In  letters  to  his 
friends  he  never  wearied  of  pointing  out  the 
faults  of  "Frithjof^^  and  his  own  shortcomings 
as  a  poet.  In  a  letter  to  the  poet  Leopold  (Au- 
gust 17,  1825),  who  had  praised  the  poem  to  the 
skies,  he  argues  seriously  to  prove  that  his  admira- 
tion is  misplaced  : 

"  My  great  fault  in  Tritlijof '  was  not  that  I  chose  my 
theme  from  the  old  cycle  of  sagas,  but  that  I  treated  it  in 
a  tone  and  with  a  manner  which  was  neither  ancient  nor 
modern,  neither  antiquarian  nor  poetical,  but  hovered,  as  it 
were,  on  the  boundary  of  both.  For  what  does  it  mean  to 
treat  a  subject  poetically  if  not  this,  to  eliminate  everything 
which  belongs  to  an  alien  and  past  age  and  now  no  longer 
ajipeals  to  any  heart  ?  The  hearts  to  which  it  once  did  ap- 
peal are  now  all  dust.  Other  modes  of  thought  and  feeling 
are  current.  It  is  impossible  to  properly  translate  one  age 
into  another.  But  to  poetry  nothing  is  really  past.  Poetry 
is  the  beautifying  life  of  the  moment ;  she  wears  the  colors 
of  the  day ;  she  cannot  conceive  of  anything  as  dead. 
.  .  .  But  I  am  convinced  that  all  poetic  treatment  of  a 
theme  belonging  to  a  past  age  demands  its  modernization ; 
and  that  everything  antiquarian  is  here  a  mistake.  This 
holds  good  not  only  in  regard  to  the  northern  tone  but  also 
in  regard  to  the  Greek.  Look,  for  instance,  at  Goethe's 
'Iphigenie.'    Who  does  not  admire  the  beautiful,  simple, 


ESAIAS  TEGNER  277 

noble,  Hellenic  form  ?  And  yet  who  has  ever  felt  his  soul 
warmed  by  this  image  of  stone  ?  .  .  .  No  living  spirit 
has  been  breathed  into  these  nostrils  ;  the  staring  eyes  gaze 
upon  me  without  life  and  animation  ;  no  heart  beats  under 
the  Hellenically  rounded  marble  bosom.  The  whole  is  a 
mistake,  infinitely  more  beautiful  than  '  Frithjof,'  but  fash- 
ioned according  to  the  same  principles  of  art.  The  Greeks 
said  that  the  Muse  was  the  daughter  of  Memory  ;  but  this 
refers  only  to  the  material,  the  theme  itself,  which  is  every- 
where of  minor  consequence.  The  question,  tlien,  is  as  to  the 
proper  treatment.  Where  it  tends  toward  the  antiquarian  it 
misses  the  mark  ;  it  represents,  like  '  Frithjof,'  only  a  re- 
stored ruin." 

This  passage  is  by  no  means  the  only  one  in 
which  Tegner,  with  an  utter  absence  of  vanity  or 
illusion,  judged  his  work  and  found  it  wanting. 
There  is  no  mock  modesty  in  his  manly  deprecation 
of  the  honors  that  were  showered  uj)on  him ;  but 
as  a  father  knows  best  the  faults  of  his  child  whom 
he  loves,  so  he  knew  the  defects  of  his  work,  as 
measured  by  his  own  high  standard,  and  refused 
to  accept  any  more  praise  than  was  his  due.  Not 
even  the  fact  that  Goethe  expressed  his  admiration 
of  ^'Frithjof 's  Saga"  could  persuade  him  that  he 
was  entitled  to  the  extravagant  homage  which  his 
enthusiastic  countrymen  accorded  him.  There 
were  even  times  when  he  disclaimed  the  title  of 
poet.  Whether  he  was  forgotten  a  little  sooner  or 
a  little  later,  he  said,  was  a  matter  of  small  mo- 
ment. 

"Speaking seriously,"  he  writes  in  1824  (accord- 
ingly before  the  publication  of  '^Frithjof"),  "I 


2/8  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LIT  ERA  TURE 

liave  never  regarded  myself  as  a  poet  in  the  higher 
significance  of  the  word.  ...  I  am  at  best  a 
John  the  Baptist,  who  is  preparing  the  way  for 
him  who  is  to  come." 

He  is  always  just  and  inclined  to  be  generous  in 
his  judgment  of  every  one  except  himself.  It  is 
necessary,  however,  after  the  year  1824,  to  make 
due  allowance  for  the  terrible  strain  upon  his  mind 
which  disposed  him  to  give  violent  and  hyperboli- 
cal expression  to  the  mood  of  the  moment.  The 
unhappy  passion  which  he  could  at  times  smother, 
but  never  subdue,  went  boring  away  into  his  heart 
like  a  subterranean  fire,  consuming  his  vitals,  and 
occasionally  breaking  forth  into  a  wild  blaze.  The 
following  reference  to  it,  in  his  letter  to  Franzen 
(November  13,  1825),  is  very  pathetic  : 

"It  is  to-day  my  forty-third  birthday.  I  have  thus  long 
since  passed  the  highest  altitude  of  life  where  the  waters  di- 
vide. With  every  year  one  now  becomes  smaller  and  smaller ; 
one  star  is  extinguished  after  another.  And  yet  the  sun 
does  not  rise.  One  dies  by  degrees  and  by  halves.  There- 
fore only  children  and  youth  ought  to  celebrate  their  birth- 
days with  joy  ;  we  who  have  passed  into  the  valley  of  age, 
which  with  every  step  is  growing  darker  and  chillier,  are 
right  in  celebrating  them  with — whims.  .  .  .  However, 
this  is  not  my  only  or  my  greatest  affliction.  I  have  had  and 
have  others.  But  the  night  is  silent  and  the  grave  is  dumb, 
and  their  sister,  Sorrow,  should  be  as  they.  Therefore — let 
this  suffice." 

December  29th.  "  Alas,  this  old  year  !  What  I  have  suf- 
fered in  it  no  one  knows,  if  not,  perhaps,  the  Recorder  be- 
yond the  clouds.  But  I  am  indebted  to  this  year.  It  has 
been  darker,  but  also  more  serious  than  all  the  others  put 


ESAIAS   TEGNER  27 g 

together.  I  have  learned  at  my  own  expense  wliat  a  human 
heart  can  endure  without  breaking,  and  what  power  God  has 
deposited  in  a  man  under  his  left  nipple.  As  I  say,  I  am 
under  obligation  to  this  year,  for  it  has  enriched  me  with 
what  is  the  real  sinking  fund  of  human  wisdom  and  human 
independence — a  mighty,  deeply  rooted  contempt  for  man. 
.  .  .  My  inner  nature  emerges  from  the  crisis  like  the 
hibernating  bear  from  his  den,  emaciated  and  exhausted, 
but  happily  with  my  ursine  sinews  well  j^reserved  ;  and  by 
and  by  some  flesh  will  be  growing  on  them  again.  It  seems 
to  me  that  my  old  barbaric,  Titanic  self,  with  its  hairy  arms, 
is  constantly  more  and  more  rubbing  the  sleep  out  of  its 
eyes.  I  hope  that  some  vine  may  still  grow  upon  the 
scorched  and  petrified  volcano  of  my  heart." 

January,  182G.  "  But  when  one  is  compelled  to  despise  the 
character  of  a  human  being,  especially  of  one  who  has  been 
or  is  dear  to  one.  then  that  is  the  bitterest  experience  which 
life  can  afford  ;  then  it  is  not  strange  if  a  frank  and  ardent 
sonl  turns  with  loathing  from  this  false,  hypocritical  genera- 
tion and  shuts  himself  up,  as  well  as  may  be,  in  the  hermit- 
age of  his  own  heart. 

"My  mind  is  tmchristian,  for  it  has  no  day  of  rest.  Gen- 
erally I  think  that  my  disease  has  its  seat  in  the  abdomen 
or  in  the  waist.  Mineral  waters  I  can  no  more  drink  this 
summer.  But  is  there  not  a  mineral  water  which  is  called 
Lethe  ? 

"Whether  my  little  personality  returns  thither  whence  it 
came,  with  or  without  consciousness,  a  few  mouths  later  or 
earlier,  in  order  to  be  drowned  in  its  great  fountain-head,  or 
to  float  for  some  time  yet  like  a  bubble,  reflecting  the  clouds 
and  an  alien  light — this  appears  to  me  constantly  a  matter  of 
less  and  less  consequence." 

There  is  to  me  a  heartrending  pathos  in  these 
confessions.  It  is  easy  to  stand  aloof,  of"coiTrse, 
like  a  schoolmaster  with  his  chastising  rod,  and  lash 


280  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

the  frailties  of  poor  linman  nature.  It  is  easy  to 
declare  with  virtuous  indignation  that  the  man 
who  covets  his  neighbor's  wife  is  a  transgressor  who 
has  no  claim  upon  our  sympathy.  And  yet  who  can 
help  pitying  this  great,  noble  poet,  who  fought  so 
bravely  against  his  "barbaric.  Titanic  self  with 
its  hairy  arms  "  ?  His  passionate  intensity  of  soul 
was,  indeed,  part  of  his  poetic  equipment ;  and  he 
would  not  have  been  the  poet  he  was  if  he  had 
been  cool,  callous,  and  self -restrained.  The  slag  in 
him  was  so  intimately  moulded  with  the  precious 
metal  that  their  separation  would  have  been  the 
extinction  of  the  individuality  itself.  The  fiery 
furnace  of  affliction  through  which  he  passed 
warped  and  scorched  and  cracked  this  mighty  com- 
pound, but  without  destroying  it.  A  glimpse  of 
this  experience  which  transformed  the  powerful, 
joyous,  bright-visaged  singer  into  a  bitter,  darkly 
brooding  pessimist,  fleeing  from  the  sinister  shadow 
which  threatened  to  overtake  him,  is  afforded  us 
in  the  poem  "  Hypochondria  *  "  : 

"  I  stood  upon  the  altitude  of  life, 
Where  mingled  waters  part  and  downward  go 
With  rush  and  foam  in  opposite  directions. 
Lo,  it  was  bright  up  there,  and  fair  to  stand. 
I  saw  the  sun,  I  saw  his  satellite, 

Which,  since  he  quenched  his  light,  shone  in  the  blue ; 
I  saw  that  earth  was  fair  and  green  and  glorious, 
I  saw  that  God  was  good,  that  man  was  honest. 

*  The  poem  is  written  in  the  ottava  rime,  but  in  order  to  pre- 
serve the  sense  intact  I  have  rendered  it  in  blank  verse. 


ESAIAS  TEGN-ER  28 1 

"  Then  rose  a  dread  black  imp,  and  suddenly 
The  black  one  bit  himself  into  my  heart ; 
And  lo,  at  once  the  earth  lay  void  and  ba'rren 
And  sun  and  stars  were  straightway  drenched  in  gloom 
The  landscape,  glad  erewhile,  lay  dark,  autumnal  • 
Each  grove  was  sere,  each  flower  stem  was  broken  •' 
Withm  the  frozen  sense  my  strength  lay  dead, 
All  joy,  all  courage  withered  within  me. 

"  What  is  to  me  reality— its  dumb, 
Dead  bulk,  inert,  oppressive,  grim,  and  crude  ' 
How  hope  has  paled,  alas,  with  roseate  hue  1 
And  memory,  the  heavenly  blue,  grown  hoary  ! 
And  even  poesy  !    Its  acrobatic 
Exertions,  leaps-they  pall  upon  my  sense  ; 
Its  bright  mirage  can  satisfy  no  soul- 
Light  skimmings  from  the  surface  fair  of  things. 

"  Still  I  will  praise  thee,  oh,  thou  human  race 
God's  likeness  art  thou,  oh,  how  true,  how  striking  ' 
Two  lies  thou  hast  natheless,  in  sooth,  to  show  ; 
The  name  of  one  is  man,  the  other's  woman  ! 
Of  faith  and  honor  there's  an  ancient  ditty, 
'Tis  sung  the  best,  when  men  each  other  cheat 
Thou  child  of  heaven,  the  one  thing  true  thou  hast 
Is  Cain's  foul  mark  upon  thy  forehead  branded. 

"  A  mark  quite  legible,  writ  by  God's  finger  ; 
Why  did  I  fail  ere  now  to  heed  that  sign  ?  ' 
A  smell  of  death  pervades  all  human  life, 
And  poisons  spring's  sweet  breath  and  summer's  splendor 
Out  of  the  grave  that  odor  is  exhaling. 
The  grave  is  sealed  and  marble  guards  its  freight 
But  still  corruption  is  the  breath  of  life,  ' 

Eludes  its  guard  and  scatters  everywhere. 

♦♦  Oh.  watchman,  tell  me  now  the  night's  dark  hour ! 
Will  it  then  never  wane  unto  its  end  ? 


252  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

The  half-devoured  moon  is  gliding,  gliding, 
Tlie  tearful  stars  forever  onward  go, 
My  pulse  beats  fast  as  in  the  time  of  youth, 
But  ne'er  beats  out  the  hours  of  torment  sore. 
How  long,  how  endless  is  each  pulse-beat's  pain  ! 
Oh,  my  consumed,  oh,  my  bleeding  heart. 

"  My  heart !     Nay  in  my  bosom  is  no  heart, 
There's  but  an  urn  that  holds  life's  burnt-out  ashes  ; 
Have  pity  on  me,  thou  green  mother  Earth, 
And  hide  tliat  urn  full  soon  in  thy  cool  breast. 
In  air  it  crumbles,  moulders  ;  earth's  deep  woe 
Has  in  the  earth,  I  ween,  at  last  an  end  ; 
And  Time's  poor  foundling,  here  in  school  constrained, 
Finds  then,  perchance,  beyond  the  sun— a  father." 

A  physical  disease  which  seems  to  have  baffled 
the  skill  of  physicians  may  have  been  the  primary 
cause  of  the  sufferings  here  described,  and  was  no 
doubt  aggravated  by  the  psychical  condition  to 
which  I  have  alluded.  Now  it  was  supposed  to  be 
the  liver  which  was  affected  ;  then  again  Tegner  was 
treated  for  gall-stones.  In  the  summer  of  1833  he 
made  a  journey  through  Germany  and  spent  some 
months  at  Carlsbad  ;  but  he  returned  without  sen- 
sible relief.  His  foreign  sojourn  was,  however, 
of  some  benefit  in  widening  his  mental  horizon. 
Tegner's  intellectual  affinities  had  always  been 
French  ;  and  toward  Germany  he  had  assumed  a 
more  or  less  unsympathetic  attitude.  A  slight  ac- 
quaintance with  the  philosopher  Schleiermacher 
and  the  Germanized  Norwegian  author  Henrik 
Steffens  (who  was  then  a  professor  at  the  Univer- 
sity of  Berlin)  did  not,  indeed,  reverse  his  predi- 


ESAIAS  TEGNER  283 

lections,  but  it  opened  his  eyes  to  excellences  in 
the  German  people  to  which  he  had  formerly  been 
blind,  and  removed  prejudices  which  had  ob- 
scured his  vision.  He  had  everywhere  the  most 
distinguished  reception,  and  was  honored  with  an 
invitation  to  Saus  Souci,  where  he  was  the  guest  of 
the  witty  Crown  Prince  of  Prussia,  later  Frederick 
William  IV.  But  these  agreeable  incidents  of  his 
journey  were  a  poor  compensation  for  his  failure 
to  obtain  that  which  he  had  gone  in  search  of. 
Fame,  honor,  and  distinguished  friends,  without 
health,  are  but  a  Tantalus  feast,  the  sweets  of 
which  are  seen  but  never  tasted. 

"  I  fear,"  said  Tegner,  in  his  hopelessness, 
'^that  my  right  side,  like  that  of  the  Chamber  of 
Deputies,  is  incurable." 

"  When  this  Saul's  sj^irit  comes  over  me  I  often 
feel  an  indescribable  bitterness,  which  endures 
nothing,  spares  nothing,  in  heaven  or  on  earth.  It 
usually  finds  vent  in  misanthropic  reflections,  sar- 
casms, and  ideas  which  I  have  no  sooner  written 
down  than  I  repent  of  them." 

The  activity  which  he  unfolded,  even  in  the 
midst  of  intolerable  sufferings,  was  phenomenaL 
He  possessed  an  energy  of  will  and  vigor  of  tem- 
perament which  enabled  him  to  rise  superior  to 
his  physical  condition,  and  lure  strong  music 
(though  sometimes  Jarred  into  discords)  from  the 
broken  lyre.  It  was  in  1829,  after  his  illness  had 
fastened  its  hold  ujDon  him,  that  he  pronounced 
the  beautiful  epilogue  in  hexameters  at  the  gradu- 

I 


2  84  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N  LITER  A  TURE 

ating  festivities  at  the  University  of  Luud,  and 
crowned  the  Dane,  Adam  Oehlenscliliiger,  as  the 
king  of  poets  : 

' '  Now,  before  tliou  beginnest  the  distribution  of  Laurels 

Grant  me  one  for  him  in  whom  I  shall  honor  them  all. 

Lo,  the  Adam  of  poets  is  here,  the  Northern  king  among 
singers ; 

Heir  to  the  throne  in  poesy's  world  ;  for  the  throne  yet  is 
Goethe's. 

Oscar,  the  king,  if  he  knew  it,  would  give  his  grace  to  my 
action. 

Now  I  speak  not  for  him,  still  less  for  myself,  but  the 
laurel 

Place  on  thy  brow  in  poesy's  name,  the  bright,  the  eter- 
nal. 

Past  is  disunion's  age  (in  the  infinite  realm  of  the  spirit 

Never  it  ought  to  have  reigned),  and  kindred  tones  o'er 
the  water 

Ring,  which  enrapture  us  all,  and  they  are  especially 
thine. 

Therefore,  Svea — I  speak  in  her  name — adorns  thee  with 
laurel  : 

Take  it  from  brotherly  hand,  of  the  day  in  festal  remem- 
brance." 

Eestless  official  activity,  parliamentary  labors, 
educational  addresses,  and  metrical  discourses  on 
memorable  occasions  filled  the  years  from  1829  to 
1840.  He  felt  the  demon  of  insanity  lurking  be- 
hind him,  now  close  at  his  heels,  now  farther 
away  ;  and  it  was  a  desperate  race,  in  which  life 
and  death,  nay,  worse  than  death,  was  at  stake. 
His  indefatigable  exertions  afforded  him  a  respite 


ESAIAS   TEGNER  285 

from  the  thonglit  of  his  terrible  pursuer.  We 
can  only  regard  with  respectful  compassion  the 
outbreaks  of  misanthropic  spleen  which  often  dis- 
figure his  correspondence  from  this  period  of 
deepening  tAvilight,  relieved  by  a  brief  interval  of 
brightness.  It  is  especially  woman  who  is  the  ob- 
ject of  his  bitterest  objurgation.  The  venerable 
mutabile  et  varium  of  Virgil  is  the  theme  upon 
which  he  perpetually  rings  the  changes.  No  occa- 
sion is  too  inappropriate  for  a  joke  at  the  fickle 
and  faithless  sex  ;  and  even  the  school-boys  in  the 
Wexio  gymnasium  are  treated  to  some  ironical  ad- 
vice, a  iiropos  of  the  beautiful  jade,  which  must 
have  sounded  surprising  in  an  episcopal  oration. 
Life  with  its  bright  pageant  was  ojipressive,  like  a 
nightmare  to  the  afflicted  poet.  All  charm,  all 
rationality  had  departed  from  existence,  which  was 
but  a  meaningless  dance  of  hideous  marionettes. 
The  world  was  battered  and  befouled  ;  inexpressi- 
bly loathsome.  And  finally,  in  1840,  while  Tegner 
was  attending  the  Eiksdag  (of  which  in  his  official 
capacity  he  was  a  member),  the  long-dreaded  catas- 
trophe occurred.  His  insanity  manifested  itself  in 
tremendous' projects  of  reform,  world-conquests, 
and  outbreaks  of  wild  sensuality.  He  was  sent  to 
a  celebrated  asylum  in  Sleswick  ;  and  on  the  way 
thither  wrote  a  series  of  '*  Fantasies  of  Travel " 
which  have  all  the  rich  harmony  of  his  earlier 
verse,  and  are  full  of  delightful  imagery.  He 
fancied  that  there  was  a  huge  wheel  of  fire  revolv- 
ing with  furious  haste  in  his  head,  and  his  suffer- 


286  SCA  NDINA  VIA  N"  LITER  A  TURE 

ings  were  terrific.  The  following  fragment  from 
the  notes  of  his  attendant,  who  kept  a  record  of 
his  ravings,  has  a  cosmic  magnificence  : 

"The  whole  trouble  comes  from  that  accursed  nonsense 
about  the  diadem  which  tliej  wanted  to  put  on  me.  You 
may  believe,  though,  that  it  was  a  splendid  piece.  Pictures 
in  miniature,  not  painted,  but  living,  really  existing  minia- 
tures of  fourteen  of  the  noblest  poets  were  made  into  a 
wreath.  It  was  Homer  and  Pindar,  Tasso  and  Virgil,  Schil- 
ler, Petrarch,  Ariosto,  Goethe,  Sophocles,  Leopold,  Milton, 
and  several  more.  Between  each  one  of  them  burned  a  ra- 
diant star,  not  of  tinsel,  but  of  real  cosmic  material.  In  the 
middle  of  my  forehead  there  wa^  the  figure  of  a  lyre  on  the 
diadem,  which  had  borrowed  something  of  the  sun's  own 
living  light ;  it  poured  with  such  bright  refulgence  upon  the 
wreath  of  stars  that  I  seemed  to  be  gazing  straight  through 
the  world.  As  long  as  the  lyre  stood  still,  everything  was 
well  with  me — but  all  of  a  sudden  it  began  to  move  in  a  cir- 
cle. Faster  and  ever  faster  it  moved,  until  every  nerve  in 
my  body  was  shaken.  At  last  it  began  to  rotate  in  rings  with 
such  speed  that  it  was  transformed  into  a  sun.  Then  my 
whole  being  was  broken,  and  it  moved  and  trembled  ;  for 
you  must  know  that  the  diadem  was  no  longer  put  on  the 
outside  of  my  head,  but  inside,  on  my  very  brain.  And  now 
it  began  to  whirl  around  with  an  inconceivable  violence,  un- 
til it  suddenly  broke  and  burst  into  pieces.  Darkness— dark- 
ness— darkness  and  night  spread  over  the  whole  world  wher- 
ever I  turned.  I  was  bewildered  and  faint,  and  I  who  had 
always  hated  weakness  in  men — I  wept ;  I  shed  hot,  burning 
tears.     All  was  over. "  * 

Contrary  to  the  expectation  of  his  friends  he  re- 
covered rapidly,  and  was  able  to  return  home  in 
May,  1841.     He  promptly  resumed  his  episcopal 

*  Brandes  :  Esaias  Tegner,  pp.  231-333. 


ESA/AS   TEGNER  28/ 

functions,  and  even  wrote  a  beautiful  rural  idyl 
in  hexameters  called  "  The  Crowned  Bride " 
{Kronhruden),  which  he  dedicated  to  Franzen. 
He  was  well  aware,  however,  that  his  powers  were 
on  the  wane,  and  in  1845  he  was  persuaded  to  ap- 
ply for  a  year's  relief  from  his  official  duties.  The 
last  months  of  his  life  he  spent  mostly  lying  ujoon 
a  sofa  in  his  library,  surrounded  by  great  piles  of 
books  containing  a  most  miscellaneous  assortment 
of  classics,  from  Homer  to  Goethe,  intersprinkled 
with  controversial  pamphlets  and  recent  novels. 
He  was  gentle  and  affectionate  in  his  demeanor ;  and 
his  beautiful  face  lighted  up  with  a  smile  whenever 
any  of  his  children  or  grandchildren  approached 
him.  Once  or  twice  a  day  he  drove  out  in  his  car- 
riage, and  he  was  even  able  to  visit  his  eldest  son, 
who  was  a  clergyman  in  Scania,  and  to  receive  the 
sacrament  for  the  last  time  from  his  hand.  Short- 
ly after  his  return  he  was  stricken  with  paralysis, 
and  died  November  2,  1846,  in  the  sixty-fourth 
year  of  his  age.  His  mind  was  unclouded  and  his 
voice  was  clear.  When  the  autumnal  sun  sudden- 
ly burst  through  the  windows  and  shone  ui^on  the 
dying  poet, lie  murmured  :  ''I  Avill  lift  up  mine 
hands  unto  the  house  and  the  mountain  of  God." 

These  were  his  last  words.  He  was  carried  to 
the  grave  at  night  by  the  light  of  lanterns,  fol- 
lowed by  a  long  procession  of  the  clergy,  citizens, 
and  the  school-boys  of  his  diocese.  Peasants,  from 
whose  ranks  he  had  sj^rung  and  to  whom  he  was 
always  a  good  friend,  bore  his  coffin. 


288  SCANDINAVIAN  LITERATURE 

The  academic  tendency  which  "idealizes"  life 
and  shuns  earth-scented  facts,  had,  through  the 
decisive  influence  of  Tegner,  been  victorious  in 
Swedish  literature.  I  am  aware  that  some  will 
regard  this  as  a  questionable  statement ;  for  the 
academicism  of  Tegner  is  not  the  stately,  blood- 
less, Gallic  classicism  of  the  Gustavian  age,  of 
which  Leopold  was  the  last  representative.  It  is 
much  closer  to  the  classicism  of  Goethe  in  "  Iphi- 
genia"  and  "  Hermann  and  Dorothea,"  and  of 
Schiller  in  "  Wallenstein  "  and  "Wilhelm  Tell." 
Tegner's  poetic  creed  was  exactly  that  of  Schiller, 
who  saw  no  impropriety  in  making  the  peasant 
lad,  Arnold  Melchthal,  when  he  hears  that  his 
father  has  been  blinded,  deliver  an  enraptured 
apostrophe  to  the  light  : 

"  O  eine  edle  Himmelsgabe  ist 
Das  Liclit  des  Auges,"  etc. 

The  rhetorical  note  is  predominant  in  both. 
Their  thoughts  have  to  be  arrayed  in  the  flowing 
toga  before  they  are  held  to  be  presentable.  This 
is  the  academic  tendency  in  Sweden  as  in  France, 
even  though  the  degree  of  euphemistic  magnilo- 
quence may  differ  with  the  age  and  latitude.  The 
Swedes  have  been  called  the  Frenchmen  of  the 
North,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  delight  in  this 
toga-clad  rhetoric  is  inherent  in  both.  It  was  be- 
cause Tegner,  in  appealing  to  this  delight,  was  so 
deeply  representative  that  he  extinguished  the  old 
school  and  became  the  national  poet  of  Sweden. 


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